


Hello, Princess

by moonyredmoon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, House Party, Mathematics, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Texting, Tutoring, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 71,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonyredmoon/pseuds/moonyredmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professors and TAs were supposed to teach and help you. They were supposed to appreciate students who took the time to come see them and ask questions. If nothing else, they were supposed to have a clear explanation when it came to questions on grading. Instead, Clarke had even more questions and only one new piece of information…<br/>Bellamy Blake was an asshole.</p><p>AU with Clarke in college as a pre-med student, and Bellamy her Calculus TA. More characters and tags will be added as they are introduced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asshole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has a jerk of a TA.

It was too late to be up, Clarke told herself. Her roommate had fallen asleep hours ago and with each passing moment the dorms grew quieter and quieter. The only sounds now were the humming of their mini fridge, the scratch of pen on paper, and the pages flipping back and forth in her Calculus textbook. Even though they were the most insignificant noises during the day, Clarke found them deafening against the stagnant silence of the night; her heart jumped every time she had to turn a page of her textbook or flip to a clean page in her notebook.

If only her brain would agree that nights were for sleeping, she would be able to crawl into bed and forget all about her Calculus 3 class. It was ridiculous, but for some reason her concentration, creativity, and general problem solving peaked during the late hours of night. Normally Clarke didn’t take advantage of that due to her eight-AM class every day of the week, but math was more important than anthropology for a pre-med student.

The sad thing was, Clarke wasn’t even working on actual homework for the future; she was trying desperately to figure out why exactly she had gotten a D- on her very first graded assignment. Once a month all the homework was graded in bulk, and she had been mortified to learn that at least half of her hard-won solutions were marked up in red and awarded partial credit, if anything. No explanation; just red marks. It was up to Clarke to find the mistakes herself, except after hours of reworking every marked problem using all the resources available to her, including her friend the internet, she got the exact same answers that were apparently wrong.

Maybe she was mistaken; maybe her superpower of late-night smarts was a lie induced by a deadly combination of exhaustion and adrenaline. Anything was possible. Everything was questionable. Her previously earned and cherished Calculus skills were apparently a big fat lie.

Life was so unfair.

Clarke sighed and put down her pen, running her fingers through her roots before remembering she had tied her hair back in a bun that was now ruined. She pulled at the band aggressively, ignoring the pain of small clumps coming out with it, and ran her fingers through her freed locks. Much better. After a moment she picked up the pen and turned back to the equation at hand, but the black scratched numbers, variables, and symbols staring back at her were no different than those she arrived at the first time, incorrectly.

It was useless. She looked for the time, and groaned when she found it.  “3:57 AM” glared back at her in angry red. This was going nowhere. It had been going nowhere three hours ago, but she was too stubborn to back down then. Now the battle was lost, and she was willing to accept defeat to claim the consolation prize of at least three hours of sleep.

Fantastic.

Crawling into bed, Clarke was overcome with an intense determination before falling immediately asleep. Tomorrow she would get answers. This so-called professor had some explaining to do.

 

That morning was awful. Anthropology on three hours of sleep at eight in the morning was Clarke’s living hell. She regretfully realized at every lecture that the subject would be extremely interesting if not for her horrible monotone professor that seemed to think reading a PowerPoint to the whiteboard was the most effective teaching method. It wasn’t. For one, falling asleep was almost guaranteed and Clarke didn’t even feel bad due to the dozens of other heads around her, nodding off and jerking awake every few minutes. There wasn’t even a good reason to take notes, since their professor had the decency to post each presentation on their class website. If attendance wasn’t twenty percent of their grade, Clarke wouldn’t even bother showing up. Obviously her professor knew that. _Well played, sir; well played._

At the end of class Clarke immediately perked up, along with everyone else. She had over an hour to kill before Calculus and her professor luckily had office hours that day. Armed with her pages of attempted reworking and her original assignment, she sprinted the half mile to his office.

Catching her breath, she knocked on the door. It wasn’t open yet, which was a good sign; that meant she must be the first person there. Her questions were guaranteed answers.

The door opened. Her middle-aged, bespectacled professor opened the door and welcomed her in with his thick Russian accent. It had taken some getting used to during the first week, but now she understood and clung to every word that came out of his mouth. He beckoned Clarke to sit down, and she obliged.

“Professor, I just have a few questions on my homework,” she started, and he immediately jumped up to grab his own textbook.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He opened to a page near the beginning and began flipping through. “What are we on now, chapter two, section three…” Clarke moved to correct him, but he didn’t see until he was on the proper page and looked back up at her expectantly.

“No, I’m sorry, I meant I have questions on my previous homework—the assignment we just got back? I was looking through it, and I have some questions marked wrong without any notes—“

He raised a hand to cut her off. “Unfortunately all of your assignments are graded by your TA, Mr. Blake. I can help you with strategies for your current assignment, but if you have any questions on grading you will have to speak with him.”

“Mr. Blake?” asked Clarke slowly, trying to remember a face but coming up empty.

“Yes, he sits in on the lecture a few times a week in the back left at the wide desk.” He began waving his hand impatiently as he spoke, looking behind Clarke as he did so. As subtly as possible she glanced back, saw a line of five classmates behind her, and was immediately grateful for her mastery of cardio. “He will be there today. Find him after class if you would like to speak with him.”

“Thank you,” said Clarke, standing up before he could ask her to leave.

 

Clarke took excellent notes, even when she wasn’t completely paying attention. On days like this when she was horribly distracted by specific thoughts, feelings, or life in general, she was eternally grateful for that skill. Half of the class was spent looking around for this “Mr. Blake” that she was supposed to be talking to. Obviously the first place she looked was at the large desk at the back left where her professor had told her to find him, but her heart had immediately fallen when she saw it empty. The thought crossed her mind that he was perhaps in a different spot, but she didn’t see anybody who looked significantly older or wiser than everyone else in the classroom. Consequently she looked back at the desk every couple of minutes in case he decided to show up.

Twenty minutes before class ended, he did. The rest of the period was spent glancing back at him to make sure he didn’t slip out as quietly as he had come in. As soon as class was dismissed, Clarke hurried to the back of the lecture hall and stood in front of the wide TA’s desk.

In her determination to find him and catch him, Clarke realized she hadn’t even really looked at him. Up close, she was surprised to see he wasn’t much older than her, relatively speaking. Apparently the title “Mr. Blake” had made her imagine him as the mature and all-knowing keeper of Calculus homework, even though that was ridiculous since TAs were most commonly grad students.

On top of his younger than expected appearance, Clarke had to admit that he was extremely attractive. Even though he clearly did not give a damn how he looked while sitting in on a lecture at the very back of a large lecture hall listening to information he already knew, his dark disheveled hair over bold features and stern expression suited him.

All too late, Clarke realized she was staring and blushed. She opened her mouth, horrified, but he spoke first.

“What do you want, Princess?” he asked dully, already gathering up his bag.

“ _Princess?_ ” The name offended her enough to make embarrassment a thing of the past. “That’s kind of inappropriate, don’t you think? It suggests gross and overall inaccurate judgments about me and my character, and I find that really rude.”

He stared at Clarke blankly for a long moment, but she held her ground. “No, I see now more than ever that the name suits you just fine.”

Clarke huffed and moved to argue, but he cut her off. “Look, Princess,” he said, and Clarke could swear she saw an infuriating little smirk flash across his face, “Either I call you what I decide to call you, or I don’t call you anything at all. I have a lot of students. They change every year. If you want me to _know_ who you are, you need to let me _decide_ who you are.”

She pursed her lips and held her tongue, even though it was screaming to fight back. This was a fight that she could concede in lieu of more important battles. Her compliant silence extended until Mr. Blake had stood up with his packed bag slung over his shoulder, arms crossed.

“Okay,” she said, then realized that she had jumped into speaking to him rudely without addressing him at all, and added, “Mr. Blake,” except that made his expression turn to one of deep and intense disgust.

“Ugh, no, it’s Bellamy,” he said. “Is that what Kruglikov is telling students to call me?” Clarke nodded slowly. “Great. Awesome.”

“Okay, um, _Bellamy_ ,” she said, and he seemed to relax a bit. “I was wondering what exactly I did wrong on my homework. I have answers marked wrong and points taken off, but you didn’t say which part is inaccurate or give any explanation.” She held out her paper and Bellamy raised his eyebrows, then took it from her, paging through too quickly.

“Yeah, that’s a lot of red,” he said with a laugh, then handed it back to her. “I take off points for numerous reasons, and what you did wrong should be obvious. If you can’t figure it out, you aren’t trying hard enough.” With that he walked away, leaving Clarke alone in the lecture hall, stunned and speechless.

Professors and TAs were supposed to teach and help you. They were supposed to appreciate students who took the time to come see them and ask questions. If nothing else, they were supposed to have a clear explanation when it came to questions on grading. Instead, Clarke had even more questions and only one new piece of information…

Bellamy Blake was an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really excited to be writing this. I wanted to wait to start posting until I had a few chapters finished already, but that wasn't happening fast enough.
> 
> Since I'm really pumped about this, it will probably be my first priority instead of the prompt series (though I will still be working on that). I have a lot mapped out in my head. This is going to be a long story.
> 
> Super pumped. I hope you all enjoy the first chapter (that I wrote between 1-3AM because I couldn't sleep until I got something down)! Views, kudos, and especially comments are super duper appreciated!


	2. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is pressured into attending a frat party, but ends up having a good time.

Bellamy Blake was an asshole.

Clarke wasn’t one to give up so easily, and was actively preparing for her next confrontation every chance she got. Unfortunately for her, Bellamy didn’t show up to lectures for the rest of the week. That left her an entire weekend for her words to stew and brain to rot retrying every single problem she got wrong.

Well, she had already done that about three times. This weekend would be spent catching up on work for all her other classes, which had somehow fallen by the wayside and managed to stack up into an intimidating load. It had to be taken care of, and soon, before more work piled on top of it.

That was college for you; Clarke had no idea how so many of her peers managed to have such an active social life.

“Don’t your parents pay for your college anyway?” asked Michelle, while trying to convince Clarke to accompany her to a party at the least dangerous frat house on campus. Clarke had already permanently refused to ever step foot into the houses that had even once reported date rape. Everyone said she was crazy to set that standard, but it was completely reasonable for her to be proactive in her physical and sexual safety. That left two houses on campus, and only one of them threw constant parties. One of those parties was tonight. “If you fail a class it doesn’t even matter, it’s not like they’re going to cut you off.”

Clarke pursed her lips. She hated having this conversation with other people from money, who always seemed to assume that because her parents were wealthy that she took their generosity for granted like they did. She didn’t. College was an important stepping stone, and one that she wanted behind her as soon as possible to make way for two subsequent degrees.

“I’m finishing in four years,” she said. “I’m not going to push out my career goals a year or even a semester just because I fucked up and went to one too many parties. It’s not worth it.”

Michele threw up her hands in defense. “Wow, you are such a downer.” She picked up a pair of comically large earrings and placed them carefully in her lobes. “If you change your mind you know where to find me.” She wagged her phone in front of Clarke, who laughed. Yeah, she also knew the address so texting wasn’t really necessary, except she would oblige anyway.

 

An hour of studying felt like ten, and somehow she was hardly anywhere. It was Organic Chemistry too, her favorite class this semester, but for some reason she couldn’t find her usual focus. That didn’t stop Clarke from trying, though she welcomed the quiet ding that came from her phone as a much needed distraction.

It was from her dad. **TGIF right?** She smiled and went to answer, but got a second text before she could finish. **What are you up to?**

She considered lying since the truth was so uninteresting, but decided against it. **Nothing much. Just studying.**

Clarke’s dad loved everything related to new technology. He was on every social media site, pretty much collected tablets and gadgets, and was always splurging on the newest phones. Somehow he had caught on to texting with more ferocity than most of her friends, so when Clarke didn’t get a response right away she knew it was going to be a long winded scolding about her anti-social habits, per usual.

Sure enough, an essay arrived in her messages within a minute. “Jesus,” she said under her breath as she skimmed the excessive amount of words.

**Studying on a Friday night? You’re in college Clarke. This could be the best time of your life so don’t let it slip away with weekends spent doing work. You can work for the rest of your life. If you don’t take advantage now you will regret it. Aren’t any of your friends doing anything fun? Give them a call. Don’t make this a habit.**

It went on for quite a while but Clarke stopped reading after that. It was just going to be more of the same. Wasn’t she the child? Wasn’t her dad supposed to tell her to go to class, study hard, and make good choices? Was she really so bad at life that her parents had to try convincing her to be _less_ responsible? Maybe her dad had a point.

**Fine, I get it. I’ll text Michelle. Love you.**

For a second she considered just staying put and lying about it when her dad would undoubtedly bring it up later, but she hated being dishonest to her parents. No, she would go and be social like a good girl; make her parents proud or whatever.

**I changed my mind. Where are you?**

Looking in the full length mirror hanging from their door, Clarke saw that she would need to change into something more attractive and less comfortable than her oversized t-shirt and jeans. Ugh, going out took so much work. She put away her textbook, but left out her notebook to go over what she had written before bed. After digging through her closet and surveying the weather forecast for the night, she decided on her black skinny jeans and a belted tunic. For how nice it looked with the splashes of black and dark red patterns on the white base, it was really comfortable. The sheer back also made her feel kind of sexy, which was always a plus. No guy was going to find her attractive if she thought herself an ugly slob.

Then again, she didn’t have time for a boyfriend.

The glowing of her cell phone caught her eye and she checked the message from Michelle. s **till @ house. cute boys. look good bb. sys.**

Clarke didn’t want to keep Michelle waiting, so she quickly ran a brush through her hair and threw on some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. That would have to do. There was no way she was going to walk and dance in heels all night, so she slipped on her black converse instead. Not killing her feet was more important than attracting the boys she didn’t have time for anyway. That fact really took the pressure off of things.

 

Immediately upon arrival, Clarke was tempted to leave. The dance music was pumping so loud she could hear it down the street, and bodies poured in and out of the house onto the yard, porch, and upstairs deck. She also recalled there being a large backyard, which was likely the origin of the more audible drunken yells.

Despite the sea of bodies inside, it didn’t take long to find Michelle. She was talking to a group of hot frat guys with this other girl Clarke didn’t know. Both of them were hanging off of their testosterone filled prey like leeches, laughing at what were probably awful jokes. The blatant desperation was extremely off-putting, but Clarke walked over to them anyway.

“You made it!” squealed Michelle when Clarke stepped into their group, throwing her arms around her and nearly falling over. She reeked of alcohol. “Everyone, this is my roomie, Clarke,” she said happily. “Clarke, this is… everyone.” She held out her arm to the guys and giggled. Clarke waved awkwardly.

“Would you like a drink, Clarke?” asked one of the guys. He had a very charming smile and perfect mocha skin, but his painful attractiveness did not equate trustworthiness.

“No thank you, I can get my own.” She smiled at him, but he still seemed to take offense.

“Okay, bitch,” he said. Yeah, he was drunk.

“Miller…” started one of his friends with an annoyingly adorable face and longer brown hair, but Clarke jumped in before he could speak any further.

“I’m sorry, but literally the highest risk to my health and well-being as a woman comes from men. Forgive me for not accepting a drink from an intoxicated guy whose name I don’t even know at a party I just got to, with nobody around who knows me except my drunk roommate. I’d rather not be a statistic tonight, thanks.” Clarke pursed her lips in irritation, but the cute one smiled in amusement as she spoke.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, crossing the circle to take her arm.

“What?” asked Clarke, staring at him with wide eyes and red cheeks when he touched her without invitation. She didn’t mind, but she also didn’t understand.

“You said you would get yourself a drink. I’ll show you where.” He smiled at her. “I’m Finn.”

Clarke stared at him. “I’m--”

“--Clarke. Yeah.” He grinned.

“Right.” The feeling of heat in her cheeks was awful, and focusing on it just made it worse. She felt like an idiot.

“I promise I don’t have any roofies.”

“Great, that means you are above the absolute lowest standard I set for myself, congratulations. I’m still not letting you get me a drink.” They walked over to the kitchen, where there were open bottles and empty plastic cups for the taking. Clarke found a sealed bottle of beer, and Finn shook his head.

“Really?”

“It’s sealed,” she said simply, looking around for a bottle opener.

“You’re at a frat party.” He motioned to the tables upon tables of alcohol. “You have so many better options right now than cheap shitty beer. Live a little, Princess.”

Clarke tensed for a moment, pursing her lips. He really just called her that. Two different guys thought that was an appropriate name for her. She had to rethink her life. “Any of that open shit could be tampered with and I’m not willing to take that chance, sorry.” With a hiss the seal broke and she flicked off the cap.

“Look, this rum is unopened and here is a can of coke. Let’s make you a stronger drink.” He waved the bottle and the can suggestively and Clarke rolled her eyes. “I’m making it; you can’t stop me.”

“You can mix any drink you want but you can’t force me to have it.”

“Well, I could, but I’m not an abusive asshole and I’d rather not get arrested tonight.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Because if anyone here would call the cops on you, it’s me.”

Finn laughed as he poured, splashing some of the rum on the table. He halfheartedly wiped it up with a stray napkin, which seemed to be more effort than anyone put in for the other spills. “I gathered as much. But you wouldn’t want to see me arrested, because I think you like me.”

Clarke smiled into the bottle as she tipped her beer back. “I think I like you too.”

“Great, now that’s settled, here is your drink.” He pushed the cup toward her and grabbed the beer for himself in one swoop. Clarke eyed it uncertainly. “Be reasonable, Princess. You saw me make it and everything was sealed beforehand. Here,” he grabbed the drink back and took a swig. “If it was drugged, now I’m drugged too.”

“Fine,” she said, then glanced around. “Do they have something to cover it?” She didn’t see any plastic wrap, but maybe a napkin would do.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes, I’m serious. If it’s open someone could slip something in when I’m not looking” She grabbed a napkin and draped it over the cup, but Finn grabbed it away and instead rummaged through the trash. Before she could protest, he had a used lid and straw and was washing them in the sink with soap and everything. Once they were dried he offered them up.

“I think you have a problem, Princess.”

“Maybe a little one.” She admitted, sipping from the straw happily. “Thank you.”

 

Perhaps having a real relationship at college wouldn’t be as horrible and difficult as Clarke had convinced herself it would be. Right now, she could see herself being happy with Finn. They had only just met, but this night was the most fun she’d had at college yet, and she was a Sophomore.

The ease of their conversation and the comfort that it created around this party was bound to end; the bubble popped when Clarke looked across the room and saw Bellamy.

“Great, what’s he doing here?” she said, mostly to herself, but Finn heard.

Finn followed her eye line. “Mike? Frank? Bellamy?”

“Bellamy,” answered Clarke, frowning. She became suddenly self-conscious, and hoped above all hopes that he didn’t see her. Maybe then she could just pretend he wasn’t there, and he would go away. There were a lot of people here; it would be easy to avoid him.

“Oh, Bellamy comes here all the time, you shouldn’t be surprised to see him.” Finn shrugged. “Did you two have a thing?” He tilted his head. It was adorable.

“No, no, nothing like that,” said Clarke, taking a sip through her straw. Every time she took a drink Finn smiled triumphantly, and that made her smile right back. “He’s my TA. We had a disagreement.”

“If I were him, I would avoid those with you. You’re scary.”

“Thanks,” she said with an eye roll. “Most people do, honestly.”

“Really? I can’t imagine why.” Clarke swatted at him lightly and he laughed. “Oh look, I think he saw you. He’s coming over here.” Finn waved and Bellamy nodded to him, but kept his eyes fixed carefully on Clarke, moving in a large circle around them like he was stalking prey. That made Finn laugh even harder. What drink was he on? Clarke had lost track. “Why doesn’t he just come over?”

Clarke sighed. “He’s testing me, to see if I want to confront him tonight.” Sure enough, he didn’t come any closer, just watched her through slanted eyes.

“How did you know that?” Finn whispered sideways, leaning into her and staring at Bellamy. “All he did was look at you.”

“I just know.” Thinking about it, Clarke didn’t know how she knew. It just seemed obvious. The last thing she wanted to do was feel like an idiot again because of him, and likely the last thing he wanted was to be confronted about work at a party on the weekend. He probably didn’t have that same feeling of nervous dread, but either way their next interaction was bound to be unpleasant for all parties involved.

Then again, it was possible Clarke had been playing it up in her head too much. Maybe Bellamy had just been having a bad day, and next time he would be nice; she had no idea, really. Maybe she was getting worked up about nothing. Of course if he didn’t care, he should have gone to more than one lecture that week.

He stopped walking, but didn’t stop glancing over. Apparently she hadn’t passed the test just yet. This was ridiculous. “Bellamy!” she shouted to him, and his head turned quickly, along with a few others. “You’re safe tonight!” She waved with a smile, and he raised his drink to her with a nod and a tiny grin.

“What about me?” asked Finn, and Clarke jumped a little. She had almost forgotten he was there, which was stupid. “Am I safe tonight, Princess?”

Clarke grinned, a weight lifted from her. She felt like she was soaring. “Not a chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay second chapter complete! I had a few bouts of complete inability to write so I apologize for the delay. Apparently I do best when I am tired or wired. Stupid brain.
> 
> This chapter is indeed more Finnarke than Bellarke but the overall arc of Bellarke will be there (whoa, too many arks). I like Finn enough, but he is no Bellamy. (Sorry Finn lovers.)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Views, kudos, comments always appreciated so so much! I love you all!
> 
> Onto chapter three (soon)...


	3. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation number two, lots of internal monologue, and an unexpected interaction followed by an epiphany.

The weekend flew by after the night of the party. Michelle was so happy that Clarke had shown up, and expressed it multiple times once her hangover passed. It had fueled her fire, and she clearly wanted to continue basking in the glow of a fun and social roommate. All other invitations were turned down though, because there was only so much time that could be spent not doing work. It was tempting; the idea of going out again and maybe running into Finn. The chances of that were slim though. They had exchanged numbers, but he wasn’t returning any of her texts. It was extremely discouraging.

When Clarke walked into her Calculus lecture on Monday and saw Bellamy already sitting at his desk, all those troubles were forgotten. Looking at the clock, she had five minutes before Professor Kruglikov would arrive. Those five minutes would be put to good use. She walked over to him, and as soon as he saw her that handsome face fell.

“I have five minutes,” she blurted out before he could protest her bothering him.

He glanced at the clock. “Four now.” Clarke smiled and Bellamy crossed his arms. “You haven’t gotten far on your own, I take it.”

“No,” she admitted, shifting her weight to the other foot. “I promise I’m trying. I’ve redone all the problems multiple times but nothing changes.”

“Yeah, but I would bet you’re not changing your process each time. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Sounds to me like you’re insane, Princess.” He smirked and she frowned. “Two minutes.”

“If you could just give me a few pointers… I am just going in circles and all I want is for you to tell me the right direction. Give me a hint. Please.”

“I just did.” Bellamy gave her this knowing look, and Clarke knew he wasn’t going to budge; not yet. “Time’s up, find me after class.”

Clarke turned to see Professor Kruglikov walking through the door, a whole minute early. Damn. “If you don’t sneak out before then.” Her gaze was a challenge, and he was not amused.

“I don’t know what you think of me, Princess, but I take my job seriously. Part of that job is dealing with obnoxiously entitled students so the professor doesn’t have to. Now go to your seat and find me after class if you want to continue this conversation.”

She turned on her heel and walked to a free seat, fuming the whole way. Apparently caring about her assignments made her obnoxious and entitled. He was such a jerk, even when he wasn’t blatantly insulting Clarke, and it made her furious. With every word he made her feel small and pathetic, like a little girl whining to her parents about some insignificant thing. This was not insignificant; this was her future. She would get him to cooperate with her somehow.

Like last time he was at the lecture, an ominous force from behind that she was constantly aware of and distracted by, Clarke was unable to concentrate. Today they were starting the new section on partial derivatives. Thankfully she had already looked over the textbook for preparation, mostly in hopes that a better context for the new information would help her learn faster. She would need at least a low 'A' on her next homework to make up for that abysmal first assignment.

Reading the chapter early was the only reason Clarke retained anything from that lesson; the small amount that it was. She would be studying her notes like crazy tonight, wishing Bellamy wasn’t such a distraction to her. It didn’t make sense honestly; he was likely just sitting back there doing unrelated work and not paying attention. Even so, Clarke was painfully aware of his presence.

True to his word, Bellamy remained in his chair as the students filed out of the lecture hall. Clarke stayed behind until she was the only one left, and walked over to him, extremely aware of his eyes intently following her.

“The next class starts in ten minutes, so make it quick.”

“I don’t have anything new to say,” said Clarke. “All I want is some feedback. I can’t do this poorly on the next assignment.”

“I’m aware,” he said. “Except I don’t have anything new to say either. I already gave you a hint, and if you are as smart as you seem to think you are, that is all you should need. Stop being so insane, Princess.” He gathered up his things, and Clarke balked.

“You said I had ten minutes.”

“You only needed two.” He smiled and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Have some faith in yourself.”

“I don’t need faith, I need help.”

“Give it a few hours, and you will have everything figured out, Princess.”

Every time he called her that it wore on her nerves; partially because of the condescending way he said it, and partially because it reminded her that Finn still hadn’t spoken to her since Friday. Way to add insult to injury. “You are so _infuriating_ ,” she said through gritted teeth.

“And you are impossible.” He turned slowly to walk away, then stopped as if remembering something. “Thank you for not attacking me this weekend. It was a pleasant surprise.” He shot her a smile over his shoulder, and this time it almost looked sincere. “Maybe you’re not as impossible as I thought.”

With that he left, leaving Clarke both angry and confused. Something warm bubbled deep inside of her, and she convinced herself that it was rage. It didn’t matter how handsome he was, she told her womanly parts, because he was an asshole, and Clarke made a point to avoid assholes. However, the gears in her head were turning, and something was telling her that this time he was actually trying to give her important information. Maybe he wasn’t entirely being a jerk after all, he was just being a jerk about being a decent person.

It would be easier for both of them if he would just bite the bullet and help her, because Clarke wasn’t going to give up. She was too stubborn for that, and Bellamy would learn that if he hadn’t already.

People started entering the lecture hall, Clarke still standing there with an overly serious expression frozen on her face. As the questioning looks came, she started to feel like an idiot and left quickly. She would continue mulling over her conversation with Bellamy back in her dorm, where her looks of intense concentration wouldn’t be judged.

  
  


Before she was even able to set down her things in her dorm, her phone beeped and flashed at her. It was a new text message from her dad. Was it sad that her inbox was almost entirely full of messages from her parents? She already knew the answer to that.

**How was your weekend?**

What a loaded question. He could have just asked if she had actually gone out like she had agreed to, but that would be much too forward. **Good, I went to a house party on Friday. Met some people. Now Calculus is kicking my ass.** She almost said she met a guy, but since Finn was looking more and more unattainable with each day of silence there was no point in getting her dad’s hopes up.

**Do you want me to give Kruglikov a call? ;)**

Sometimes Clarke forgot that her dad knew almost all of her professors. He had a brief teaching job as a fresh alumni, but he quickly left it for a better position out in the field. As the charming and outgoing person he was, he had made lots of friends before his departure and stayed in contact with more of them than Clarke did from high school.

**No, it’s not him. I’m not doing well on my homework. My TA grades it but he won’t tell me what I’m doing wrong.** Before thinking she pressed send, then immediately regretted it. **It’s not a big deal, I’ll figure it out.** She didn’t want her dad to worry or do anything embarrassing.

It took eerily long for him to respond. **Okay honey, but let me know if it keeps up and I’ll give K a call.** Great, now he was worried about her. Thousands of other students managed to get passing grades without their parents pulling any strings, and Clarke didn’t want to be one of the privileged few who had that advantage.

**I promise it will work out. ttyl**

It was over an hour later that Clarke realized she hadn’t eaten anything for lunch. The growling in her stomach distracted her, not that there was much to distract from. For what seemed like the thousandth time, she was going over her marked up assignment to no avail. “This is going nowhere,” she huffed to herself, and started rummaging through her food stock instead to silence her groaning belly. It was a pretty pathetic display of cereal, crackers, and granola bars. Her fruit was long gone and she had finished the milk this morning.

The dining hall was closed until dinner, and she didn’t want to wait that long. The closest food was a dinky family owned Chinese restaurant that wasn’t even big enough for a table at which to sit down and eat. It was Clarke’s favorite place to go when she needed to stock up on food for the week and didn’t feel like taking a bus to the grocery store.

**Getting chinese, do you want anything?** She texted Michelle so she wouldn’t hear complaints about how good it smelled and be guilted into sharing. This way she would at least get paid back.

**OMG yes.** The response was immediate. **fried rice egg roll.**

She hated sending texts that only said “ok” but with Michelle it was necessary as she would keep texting until she got that affirmation. The number for the restaurant was already in her phone, so she placed an order that was way too much food for just two people. Her need for variety made it necessary to order about five different main dishes, and extra rice was a necessity. Thank goodness she was thin, otherwise people would be so judgemental of her gluttony.

Despite the twenty minutes the order would take to prepare, Clarke left immediately. The sun was shining, a pleasant autumn wind was blowing, and she needed to get out of her stuffy room. Within five minutes she passed the restaurant, but kept on walking to the campus art store a block away to wait there instead. Many students would display their own art in the store, and sometimes there were local pieces for sale as well. Clarke enjoyed looking for the new ones, even though she would never spend actual money on them. For someone from money, she was extremely frugal when it came to material things.

Today there was a series of photographs of the campus that weren't for sale, and an abstract painting that hurt Clarke’s eyes. She couldn’t imagine anyone hanging that in their house, but some odd people did go to this college. Most of the paintings from last week were unmoved, but she was happy to see the canvas with a beautiful mountain landscape was gone.

After poking around for a while, she headed back to the restaurant to pick up her order. Her stomach growled in approval when the delicious smells of deep fried food hit her nose. One other person was waiting, and Clarke glanced over to smile a hello, but froze the moment she saw his face.

It was Bellamy.

_What._

“Hello, Princess,” he said, hardly even looking at her.

She opened and closed her mouth wordlessly a few times, not knowing what to say. “H-hi,” she finally managed. They stood in silence for another minute, and Clarke wished one of the cooks would come out and take her money already so she could leave with that bulging brown paper bag just behind the counter. “I didn’t know you ate here.” What a stupid thing to say.

“I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed, but I see you here about once a month.” His expression was completely indifferent where she expected a joking smile. He was just fucking with her, surely.

“No you don’t.” She shook her head with a little laugh and craned her neck, hoping someone would notice them waiting.

“It didn’t take a whole month this time though, did it Princess?” He finally looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Am I stressing you out?”

Holy shit, he wasn’t lying. Sure enough, she had been here three weeks ago. Had he really been there too? It seemed impossible, but she didn’t exactly survey all the other customers when she came in, and she usually left in a hurry to devour the wonderful greasiness that would eventually be the death of her. What the hell? Was she really that unobservant?

Had he really noticed her when she failed to notice him? Not only that, but he had apparently taken the effort to remember her. For whatever reason, that thought flustered her and she felt an immediate heat in her cheeks.

Clarke looked up gratefully when the cook came out with another brown bag and waved her over to the register. A quick glance to the right, and she saw that Bellamy was still staring at her. She paid quickly and took the bag in her arms, now extremely aware of how comically huge it was.

“Enjoy your… food,” she mumbled to Bellamy before leaving.

She really hated seeing people outside of their normal, everyday environments. The party had been a little different, since she expected to see random acquaintances with that many people around. Running into Bellamy alone in a small room was nerve-wracking to say the least. Thankfully, she had food to fix the leftover anxiety from the encounter.

Michelle wasn’t around, so she made herself a plate and jammed the rest expertly in their small fridge. Whistling happily, she sat down at her desk and took a bite of the lo mein. Wonderful, as always. The grease wet her lips and she licked them clean after each forkful. Napkins were for wimps.

Once her stomach had calmed down, she opened up the new Calculus homework. It was an act of surrender to the assignment she essentially failed, but if she didn’t start now it wouldn’t get done in a week. Partial derivatives were somewhat new territory, so she started working through an example at the beginning of the chapter for some guidance. Halfway through, her stomach fell.

“ _Oh._ My _._ GOD!” She looked from the textbook to her notes and back, then threw her pen across the room and grabbed at her hair. “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” She groaned so loud it was almost a scream, and felt like she could either cry or dance for joy.

Bellamy was right. This whole time, she had been acting like an insane person, doing the same work over and over again, forgetting that she always used her own shorter method for most complicated derivatives. It had never failed her before, but according to the textbook she would need to take the more orthodox approach for partial derivatives. Bellamy knew that, obviously, and was requiring that she use the correct steps before it was absolutely necessary to achieve the final results. That was probably the case for everything else in the later chapters as well.

It all made sense now.

It also made sense that he hadn’t just come out and told her; this was something she was happy to have figured out on her own. The triumphant swell was only somewhat crushed by how stupid she felt, going around in circles like that when the solution was so simple. If only she had taken a step back, she would have seen it sooner, but his hint made complete sense. He wanted her to arrive here without his help. Apparently he thought she could.

Maybe Bellamy Blake wasn’t such an asshole after all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This definitely isn't my favorite chapter, but it contains some set up that was needed.
> 
> Chapter 4 coming soon! I know it is slow, but Bellarke will eventually emerge like a beautiful phoenix from the ashes of resentment!
> 
> I love everyone who reads this! I especially love those who leave kudos, and comments completely make my day. Thank you all so much! :)


	4. Tutor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is coerced (forced) into tutoring Clarke. They have their first session.

It was in her imagination; Bellamy wasn’t mad at her. There was no way that glare was meant for her, because she hadn’t done anything. In fact, the past day had been entirely uneventful and inoffensive to anyone except maybe Michelle, who got bored very easily. Looking back at him, though, he was definitely glaring at her. She slowly turned back to the front of the lecture hall, racking her brain. What had she done to deserve those daggers shooting from his eyes?

Nothing. She hadn’t even seen Bellamy since the run-in at the restaurant.

Whatever, he could be like that if he wanted; she wasn’t going to let it bother her.

After fixing her previous homework, concentrating on the new material was so much easier. It was like a heavy weight had been lifted from her, and a whole new section of her brain was available for new worries and information. Class flew by, and soon Clarke was packing up her things with a smile on her face, pleased with her work from today.

“Hello, _Princess_ ,” Bellamy hissed at her from behind, and she whirled around to face him, dropping her bag in surprise. Papers flew everywhere, and she picked them up hastily without even him even moving to help. When she stood up she expected him to say something, but he didn’t, just kept staring at her.

“What?” She searched his eyes, which were blazing. He leaned in, his face much too close to hers. It scared her, how mad he was, but she had no idea what she had done wrong. 

“What the hell did you do?” His intense gaze quickly dissipated as he looked behind her, straightening up with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Professor,” he nodded.

“Clarke, I must speak with you,” Professor Kruglikov said, beckoning her to the front of the hall. She shot a look back at Bellamy, then followed him. “I had a wonderful conversation with your father last night,” he began as they walked, and Clarke’s heart fell. “Among other things we discussed your worries about this class, and have reached an agreement.”

“No, no,” she interrupted, shaking her head. Shit, this was not good. “He didn’t know what he was talking about, I’m doing just fine--”

“It’s fine, Clarke,” he assured her, raising a hand for silence. “It is already done. Starting next week, Mr. Blake will be your personal tutor. You two can work out a schedule amongst yourselves. He will be compensated for up to four hours a week and I will be keeping tabs on his performance, and yours.”

_Shit._

“I really appreciate it, Professor, but this really isn’t necessary. I’m sure Bellamy has other commitments and I don’t want to impose on him like that.” She looked back to him desperately, wishing they hadn’t walked so far so he could hear this conversation. Maybe he could. It was her dad, not her; she didn’t want this. In fact, it was the last thing she wanted.

“Like I said, darling, it is done. His payroll is ready to go as soon as you come to a schedule agreement.” He looked at her, then over to Bellamy with a smile. “I do hope this arrangement will help you both. If Mr. Blake performs well, I have promised him a glowing recommendation.” The professor winked, but Clarke couldn’t bring herself to do anything but frown back at him.

“Thank you, professor,” she breathed, then nearly ran out of the room.

Bellamy followed, and she sped up until he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Congratulations, Princess,” he said as she wheeled around to face him. “Be in the north library at eight.” Before she could say anything, he started walking away.

“Tonight?” she called after him.

“Yep!” he shouted back, not even turning his head.

“I didn’t ask for this!” she yelled before he stepped through the door. A short wave let her know he had heard, but didn’t care.

Wonderful. This was just great.

Clarke pulled out her phone in a huff.

 **WTF dad?** Apparently she couldn’t tell him anything anymore without him imposing in on her life, despite her specific request for him not to. When he didn’t respond, Clarke figured he must be busy at the office. It was for the best, really; she didn’t want to talk to him anyway.

 

As if this Clarke’s mood couldn’t get any worse, Michelle pounced on her when she got back to the dorm. “Can I at least put my stuff down?” she grumbled, and Michelle crossed her arms dramatically, still bouncing on her toes.

“What’s up your butt?”

“My Dad,” she said, before realizing the implications. Michelle cackled hysterically. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I mean, I knew you two were close…”

“ _That’s not what I meant!_ ” She threw the nearest object--a small book--at Michelle, who dodged it. Clarke was too annoyed to smile, but Michelle’s dancing around and laughing got to her, and the edges of her mouth crept up.

“There it is!” Michelle exclaimed, pointing to Clarke’s mouth with a big grin. Why was it so hard not to smile when someone pointed it out?

“Why are you so cheerful?” asked Clarke once her bag was away and she had gotten comfortable on the futon. Not that it was out of character for her, but there was usually a reason; with this amount of giddiness the reason was usually boys.

“Well,” she plopped down next to Clarke and crossed her legs, “Nathan, er, Miller asked me out!” Clarke thought back, trying to place a face. “The really hot one who called you a bitch,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, charming. I’m surprised you remember that.”

“Of course I remember that, it was hilarious! After that things get kind of fuzzy.” She looked up, clearly trying to remember something. “Anyway, he said Finn wants you to come with me. It’s a group thing. We’re going to a movie.”

Clarke’s face fell, and Michelle nearly jumped into her lap, clutching her hands tightly. “Please, _please_ come! If you don’t then Finn will think you don’t like him and feel awkward around me because I will have to give him the message of rejection and Miller will hate me because he just will.” Clarke opened her mouth, but before she could speak Michelle piped in again. “Come on, Clarke, you are so boring without me. Do me this one favor, please?” She flashed the most well-practiced puppy eyes Clarke had ever seen, but that didn’t change her commitments. If it was anything else…

Then again, Finn never returned any of her messages. The rejection still stung, except now he was interested again? Everyone deserved a second chance, but if his technique was to play games then Clarke wasn’t having it. Drama was too draining.

Or maybe it would be worth it, for that adorable face.

“I can’t tonight,” she said finally, and Michelle wilted. “I’m sorry, but I have to go to the library with my new Calculus tutor. If I try to reschedule he will probably murder me.”

Michelle perked up. “ _He?_ Is he cute?”

Yes. “Um, he was at the party last week. Bellamy.”

Michelle clapped her hands frantically and squealed, suddenly forgiving. “Oh, yeah, he’s hot. Fine, you can go, but I’m rescheduling for tomorrow and you’re coming with me.” Before Clarke could protest, Michelle was on her phone texting. “The movie is at 7:00, so be here by 6:00 to get ready. Miller is driving.”

“Thanks, I guess,” she said. Now there was even more pressure for tonight to be productive, since she wouldn’t have much time for homework tomorrow night. Maybe she could just be late on purpose and Michelle would be forced to go alone. It was a dick move, but she would be forgiven eventually.

As if reading her thoughts, Michelle looked up at her with slanted eyes.

“If you ditch me, I will strangle you in your sleep.”

 

Clarke arrived at the library twenty minutes early, not wanting to be late for Bellamy. She didn’t need to put him in a worse mood than he probably already was. _Way to prove you’re not an entitled little brat, Princess._ Shaking her head, she checked her text messages. The first was from her dad.

**I know you’re mad, but it will help. Forgive me. <3**

It wasn’t that easy. If today went well… maybe she could start to forgive him. For now, he was the most convenient target for her anger.

The second text was from Michelle, sent just a few minutes after she left their room.

**knock him dead bb! ;)**

For someone who was invested in her potential relationship with Finn not five hours ago, she sure was rooting hard for her and Bellamy. Except she hadn’t really been invested in Finn specifically, Clarke realized. Michelle just wanted her to get some action, regardless who it was with. They had been roommates since freshman year, and not once had Clarke brought a boy back to their room. How sad.

Last year was different though. Last year she had still been reeling from her break-up with Wells. This year was a clean slate, and it would be better. It was already looking that way, and with Michelle constantly pushing her to be fun it was bound to continue down that road toward unicorns and rainbows.

Bellamy arrived ten minutes before eight, and looked genuinely surprised to see her there. “I wasn’t sure you would show,” he said, setting down his bag and taking out a textbook, packet, and unused pad of paper.

“I could say the same to you,” she replied, suddenly nervous. Bellamy already made her uncomfortable, and the thought of him scrutinizing her work made her stomach hurt. Before him, she had been really confident in her math skills, but her ego had taken a major hit. Now she was terrified of getting something wrong and looking stupid, because for whatever reason she cared what he thought of her.

“I told you, Princess, I take my job seriously.”

“Is this really part of your job though?” Answering questions and helping with homework definitely was, but not one-on-one tutoring.

“I’m getting paid for it, so I consider it my job.”

Right. That little detail. “How does that work, exactly? Is Kruglikov paying you?”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “Are you asking about my income now, Princess?”

“Yes,” she responded without thinking. Instead of the anger she expected, he looked amused. That little gesture made her relax a bit.

“Your dad is paying me.”

Oh. _Oh._ That made sense. “Let’s not waste his money then.”

“Right. I assume you still want to know about your assignment grading?” His bored eyes brightened when Clarke shook her head.

“I figured that out last night.” Her ego swelled when he flashed her a grin. That was the first time his smile had made him look genuinely happy.

“I’m proud of you, Princess,” he said, and she flushed. He was proud of her? For that? Way to set the bar low. “Isn’t it better figuring it out on your own?” Yes, but she wasn’t about to admit that aloud. “Since that’s done, let’s do some drills and then you can work on your current assignment.”

“Drills?” she asked. He pushed the packet and pad of paper to her, and opened the stopwatch application on his phone. “You’re going to time me?”

“Relax, it’s just a warm-up. These are basic derivatives and integrations, and I want you to do them as fast as you can. If you finish before the hour is up, you can ask me any questions you want concerning your homework.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Well, I might not answer them,” he added with a smirk. “Ready?”

As ready as she could be, with such short notice. She grabbed for her calculator, but Bellamy reached out to stop her. His hand rested on hers for less than a second, but it felt like she had been electrocuted.

He tapped a finger to his temple. “All you need is this, Princess.”

“Do I get to borrow yours then?” At that, he laughed. She liked making him laugh, except now she was extremely distracted.

“Begin.”

After the first ten or so problems, things got difficult. This packet was like a damn review of everything she had learned last year and then some; she was trying to unlock knowledge she hadn’t needed in a long time, and that was frustrating to say the least. After what seemed like fifty freaking pages, she started to crack.

“How long is this thing?!” She reeled on Bellamy, who was watching her calmly.

He leaned over to check the page number. “You’re over halfway done.”

The last problem took her what felt like the whole hour to complete. Massaging her cramped hand, she pushed the packet and notepad over to Bellamy, who checked the timer.

“One hour and four minutes. Nice job, Princess.”

“You wanted me to take less than an hour,” she frowned.

“I expected you to take two.”

“Of course,” she nodded. He had rigged this in his favor. Next time she would need to try harder. Watching him look over her work, curiosity got the best of her. “How long would this have taken you?”

Flipping back through the pages he had graded, he looked up at her through his eyelashes. “Ten to fifteen minutes, depending on the day.”

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

Bellamy smiled softly, making a few marks on her work. “We’ll get you there.”

Every time he made a red mark she flinched internally. How could she not mess up a few things with that kind of pressure? Even though it was all simple in comparison to what they were studying now, that didn’t mean it was easy. When he turned to her last page of scribbles, she leaned over expectantly. “How did I do?”

“Not bad, princess. You started reverting to your old techniques at the end, but we will work on that. This is solid B work.”

Her face fell. “But that was the easy stuff.”

“Yes.”

“I have to do this multiple times a week.”

“Yes.”

Clarke nodded, her dread suddenly replaced with a strange excitement. “Screw this Princess thing, I’m going to be the fucking Queen of Calculus.”

Bellamy smiled. “That’s the idea, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I thought, and isn't as good as I wanted. I hope you enjoy anyway!
> 
> I have so many ideas spinning around in my head for their interactions, but when I go to write it everything comes out as trash. I had to rewrite parts of this like three times and it still isn't great. However, I still have a week off of work for the holidays, and I'm hoping to get a chapter done every day or two, and then a few to release slowly during the following week.
> 
> Comments are my crack. Thank you to everyone who reads! <3


	5. Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie night! Then drinking. Ruh-roh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter.

If it hadn’t been for her movie plans, Bellamy would have scheduled another tutoring session for the following day. Clarke made a note to herself to thank Michelle for that later. It wasn’t because of dread or anxiety like before; that was already dissipating after successfully surviving a whole hour alone with Bellamy without any scarring incident. Rather, her brain was extremely tired and two days of “drills” (Clarke preferred to call it “concentrated thought torture”, or something along those lines) in a row sounded horribly unappealing.

“I forget that most of you people have lives,” Bellamy said.

“Only when I’m forced to,” she admitted. “And don’t act like you aren’t one of _those people_. Finn said you’re at the frat house all the time.” Thinking about Finn now sent her insides in a frenzy of nervous flutters. She would have to see him tomorrow, and he would expect something of her. All she wanted to do was know why he had been ignoring her all this time and see if there was still anything there.

“Ah, Finn,” he sighed. “I don’t count it as going out if I’m getting paid for it.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “You got paid for that?”

He nodded. “Every Friday. I bartend for them.”

“You didn’t look like you were bartending,” she scoffed. “I had to make my own drink.” That wasn’t true exactly, but it might as well have been. If she remembered correctly, Bellamy had mingled like everyone else with his own drink in hand. Most bartenders had enough dignity to not indulge on the job.

“That’s because I’m a freelance, like a sellsword with a bottle.” That seemed like a ploy. “I go to the free party, drink the free beer, eat the free food, then wait until everyone is too drunk to bother making their own drinks and the requests start coming. Rich, drunk frat boys have no idea what money is actually worth, so I make a decent profit.”

“That sounds like a scam,” said Clarke. Taking advantage of drunk people was just cruel.

“It would be, if they didn’t keep inviting me to do exactly that. Most professionals have an upfront fee, but I will come for free.” He shrugged. “It’s a really good deal for them.”

It still sounded like a scam.

“If you tried one of my drinks you would understand, Princess.”

 

In no time at all, it was already ten at night. Clarke suddenly realized how empty the library had gotten while they talked about essentially nothing at all, and felt an overwhelming need to leave. She had class in the morning, and still needed to work on the Calculus assignment they had completely neglected, and she would need to neglect again tomorrow night.

“I should go,” she said, quickly packing her things. Bellamy stood when she did, and Clarke noticed his side of the table was already clear. When had he done that? Distracted by their conversation, she must not have noticed. How mortifying; he had probably been dropping the hint that he wanted to leave, and she had completely missed it.

Then again, he could have just said something. He didn’t seem the type to beat around the bush.

“I obviously can’t do Friday, but do you have time on Saturday afternoon?” Clarke nodded. “Meet me here at two.”

“Okay.” There wasn’t anything else to say.

“Have a good night, Princess.”

 

Movie night came too quickly. Clarke hadn’t even had a chance to eat dinner before Michelle was yelling at her to hurry up at get dressed. With the permission to choose Clarke’s outfit, she had completely trashed the closet in search of the perfect ensemble.

“Oh my god, stop working, nerd,” she said, clutching a short dress, jacket, and scarf in her arms. She dumped it all on Clarke’s desk, making her shout in protest. “Calm down, work can wait. Focus on something else now, or you’re going to be no fun all night!”

Clarke glared at her and picked up the dress. “This is way too short,” she said. It looked nice on her, but after a day of pulling it down constantly in fears that it would ride up and show the world her nether regions, she wasn’t about to wear it for an extended period of time again.

“A little leg never hurt anyone,” Michelle said, now digging around for accessories to her own outfit.

“I haven’t shaved in like a week,” Clarke said, and Michelle dramatically dropped everything she was holding.

“WHAT?!” she screeched, and Clarke shrugged.

“I just haven’t had time, and kind of forgot until just now, honestly.”

“Well, if we are being honest now, you’re terrible at this. Apparently I need to start following you into the shower to make sure you are properly grooming yourself.” She sighed heavily, shaking her head in disbelief. “Just hope Finn doesn’t want to have sex tonight.”

Clarke scoffed. “Who cares? _I_ don’t want to have sex tonight.”

Still shaking her head, Michelle threw her a pair of light blue leggings that matched the scarf. “There, now we can both be happy.” Clarke shimmied into the clothes, stretching and wiggling around to get them comfortable. The dress was a little tight for her liking, but at least the material was nice, and the extra coverage of the leggings made it even better.

Michelle was busy painting her face on in the mirror, but she handed Clarke the eyeliner when she was done. “Um?” Clarke said, and she got a look of un-amused disbelief in return. They were going to a movie, for god’s sake. It would be dark and they would be looking at a screen, not each other. Apparently that didn’t matter.

“Clarke, you need to wear make-up for this. Right now you look like a dead person. Do you even sleep? Look at those bags.”

Slightly offended, she looked in the mirror. Okay, maybe Michelle was right. Ditching the pencil for foundation, she muttered “Fine,” and got to work.

To Michelle, makeup was an art. To Clarke, it was a sometimes necessary inconvenience. Their differing opinions showed when they were done; Michelle looked like a model, and Clarke just looked like a normal girl. Pretty, but normal. “That will have to do,” she sighed, and they left.

They had to wait a few minutes for Miller to arrive in his BMW, but when he did they were all smiles and twirling hair; well Michelle was, and Clarke at least looked happy to be there. She climbed into the back seat, where Finn was waiting with a grin. One look at that face, and everything was almost forgiven.

Almost.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” said Clarke with a smile.

Finn thought for a second, then shook his head with an apologetic smile. “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry about that. It turns out my phone had a weird glitch and I wasn’t getting any calls or texts. I took it to the shop for it to get wiped and reset, but I still lost whatever people sent me.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes. That sounded way too convenient. Plus, doing a hard reboot on a phone wasn’t difficult, and most problems could be fixed that way. “Why didn’t you just text me after that?”

“I lost your number,” he said with a shrug.

Too convenient again, but she didn’t feel like arguing with him. Whatever his reasons were, she was here with him now. “Well, I’m glad you were able to track me down.”

He grabbed her hand over the middle seat, and she flushed with a smile. “Me too, Princess.” After spending all that time with Bellamy the other day, it sounded weird in Finn’s voice. If anything came of this, she might need to demand a new nickname; Bellamy had used it first, so it was only fair that he would get to keep it.

That, and Clarke didn’t think she could convince him otherwise.

When they got to the theater, Clarke realized the “group” was just the four of them, and since the guys paid this was date territory. She tried to catch Michelle’s eye to communicate nonverbally that she did not appreciate being misled, but she was too wrapped up in Miller to even glance away from him.

Clarke smiled politely back at Finn, who took her hand again.

“Do you want any snacks?” he asked, and she was about to say no, but her growling stomach gave her away. They got a popcorn to share and two drinks, which was already way more than Clarke wanted Finn to spend on her. If she had been thinking, she would have snuck gas station snacks in her purse like usual.

At least popcorn was delicious.

Clarke hadn’t heard of the movie they were seeing, but apparently it was a new release that had gotten good reviews. “What’s it called again?” Clarke whispered to Michelle after they found their seats.

“Interstellar. God, don’t you listen?” With a smirk she nudged Clarke, who immediately nudged her back.

“I was distracted.”

Michelle showed her clear approval of that answer, then turned back to Miller, leaving Clarke alone with Finn. She nibbled her cheek anxiously; their forced proximity was intimidating.

“Interstellar,” she said slowly. “It doesn’t really sound like a date movie.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Who said this was a date?”

Clarke’s heart dropped in embarrassed, but she hid it with a sly grin. “You did, when you paid.”

“I’m a gentleman, of course I paid.”

“Fine, then you did when you held my hand.”

“I’m a very friendly guy.” He was enjoying this too much, but so was Clarke.

“Do you hold hands with all your friends in public?”

“Whenever I have the chance.”

“I bet you and Miller make a cute couple.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “We get that all the time.”

Clarke smiled at the image going through her head of Finn and Miller strolling through a park, hand in hand. They did make a cute couple, but it would be impossible for two people that attractive not to.

“That being said,” he added. “This is a date, Princess.”

Again with the Princess. It just didn’t sound right coming from him anymore. It made her think about Bellamy, and Calculus, and the fact that she would need to prepare before Saturday so she actually had time to go over homework with him. Instead, she was spending at least two hours doing nothing at a movie theater. The company was nice, but a movie meant to expect nothing more than proximity and forced silence in a dark room.

About thirty minutes in, Clarke realized this was going to be a much longer movie than expected. She was thoroughly enjoying it, but felt an anxiety in the back of her mind, urging her to go back to her work. Instead, she leaned over to Finn.

“You decided to bring me to the longest movie that’s out right now?” she hissed.

“Don’t complain, Princess, I know you love it.” His whisper was right above her ear, and sent a shiver up her spine. Except her mind went to Bellamy again, and she sighed in frustration.

“Can’t you call me something else?” she whispered, despite Michelle’s glare in her direction.

“But it fits you so well.”

“Apparently. You’re not the only one who uses it.”

“Oh? Was this someone in the past or is he still around?”

That made her mind go to Wells, who she immediately pushed away.

“He? You assume so much.”

Finn went speechless at that. “Have you dated girls?” he asked seriously, his eyes white and wide in amazement.

Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s not what I meant.” His face fell in disappointment. “I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed though.” His face brightened again. “Men can be such assholes. It could be refreshing.”

“Hot.”

“Oh my GOD _shut up_!” said Michelle, making Clarke jump.

They fell silent and concentrated on the movie.

It was honestly one of the best things Clarke had ever seen. Once it had her full focus, she was constantly on the edge of her seat, despite the infuriatingly slow pace. She found herself wanting to yell at the screen, but obviously refraining from that so she wouldn’t be kicked out. When the first explorer died she couldn’t help but yell in surprise and horror; she hadn’t expected it to be that kind of movie. In the aftermath she felt like crying. When they showed all the videos from the earth, she did. It made her extremely self-conscious, not one to become emotional at movies, until she looked over to Finn and saw his tear-stained cheeks.

It was like that until the end. The acting was so amazing, she almost forgot it was a movie. Even the really strange ending appealed to her, largely because of how well the actors sold it. When it was over, nearly everyone in the theater breathed a sigh of relief.

Clarke smacked Finn in the shoulder. “Why the hell did you take me to this?”

“What, you didn’t like it?”

“I fucking loved it, it was incredible, but now I won’t be able to stop thinking about it all night.” She huffed, and Finn laughed.

Miller was the one who offered a solution.

“I’m not twenty-one and I don’t have a fake,” Clarke said. Michelle did, so she wouldn’t appreciate being pulled away from this opportunity, but Clarke didn’t really feel like hanging around a bunch of drunk people when she had a self-imposed time limit that they had already exceeded. “Also, Miller, aren’t you driving?” Michelle elbowed her, but safety was more important than impressing some guys.

“Don’t worry, Princess, we will take care of you.”

Great, now he was saying it too.

They drove back to the frat house and walked a few blocks to the nearest bar, where Finn and Miller were apparently best friends with the bartender. Everyone looked the other way when they shared drinks with Clarke, even though she wouldn’t allow herself to drink more than two. With that clearly stated limit, Finn bought her two long island iced teas.

“You’re a jerk,” she said, but drank them anyway. It didn’t take long for her to start feeling it. She wasn’t even done with her first drink, and she suddenly didn’t care about her homework anymore. By the end of her first glass she was laughing way more than usual and practically hanging off of Finn. Halfway through the second, and she was gone.

“You shouldn’t like me, Finn,” she assured him. “‘cuz I’m no fun. I work all day and all night and act-actu-actually avoid fun at all costs.” She nodded, and he laughed. “No! Don’t laugh.” She covered his mouth with her hand, then cracked up herself.

It felt so good to be free.

Michelle watched her after finishing a long make-out session with Miller, amused but also a little worried now. She had been drinking too, but was way more accustomed to alcohol. Long nights at parties had taught her to hold her liquor in ways that Clarke never could. Also, she had been snacking on bar food this whole time and was suddenly aware of how little Clarke had eaten that night.

Plus Michelle would never be dumb enough to order two long islands if she wasn’t trying to get completely trashed. It was too late to stop that, but she could at least try being the responsible one for once now.

“We should probably go soon,” Michelle said when Clarke started stealing sips of Finn’s drink.

“No!” cried Clarke, nearly falling off of her seat. Finn caught her, and she leaned into him appreciatively, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek that made him laugh. “You say have fun and now I am so be happy!”

Michelle turned to the guys. “She is really drunk.” As if to prove her point, Clarke nearly fell over again. “We have class early tomorrow. I should get her home.”

“Come on, we’re having fun!” said Miller, and Michelle looked at him in disbelief.

Finn stepped in before she could reprimand him.

“You’re right, you two should go home.” He turned to Clarke and grabbed her phone. She pawed at it, trying to steal it back, but couldn’t seem to grasp it and giggled. “I’m getting your number,” he said slowly and loudly. “You call me when you wake up, okay?” She watched him, trying to be serious, but starting cracking herself up instead.

“I’ll make sure she remembers,” said Michelle, grabbing her purse and Clarke’s.

Finn stood as well. “I’ll help you get her home.” Miller was already eying the other girls in the bar. “I’ll see you back at the house,” Finn said to him, and Miller waved in acknowledgement.

The walk home was only half a mile, but after a difficult couple of blocks Finn decided to carry Clarke. She curled up in his arms and kept kissing his neck and giggling until she passed out.

“Oh thank god,” said Michelle when Clarke finally fell quiet. “I forget that good girls fall the hardest.” She watched Clarke for a moment, then shook her head. “Thanks for walking us back, this would have been impossible otherwise.”

Finn smiled. “It’s no problem, and kind of my fault she got drunk in the first place.”

“That’s right!” Michelle slapped him lightly. “Now she’s never going to come out with me again, thanks a lot.” She crossed her arms, frowning.

“I think we can convince her again, sans alcohol.”

Michelle let Finn into their dorm building, not wanting to deal with a passed out Clarke on her own. He didn’t stick around, just followed her to their room and laid Clarke onto the futon; their beds were lofted and he didn’t want to brave that feat and accidentally drop her or something. Before leaving, he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he said.

Clarke smiled and breathed out in a sigh. “Bell...me…”

Michelle froze, watching the whole thing, then laughed when Finn pulled away. “That’s Clarke alright, dreaming about Calculus again.”

He laughed too, either convinced at her explanation or not caring either way. He left quickly after that, and Michelle sighed at Clarke when she rolled over, nearly falling off the futon.

_ You can thank me later, nerd. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was really fun to write, so I hope you all enjoyed it.
> 
> 1\. Sorry for more Finn, but it won't last, I promise.  
> 2\. Clarke's confidence-building is also a slow burn, but it is happening, I promise.  
> 3\. I'm kind of falling in love with Michelle, who was just a filler character, so sorry for those of you who might not like her.
> 
> I wanted to finish this yesterday, but ended up dedicating that time to my boyfriend instead. I was originally going to split this chapter up, but decided against it. Hopefully that will make up for the slowness of posting.
> 
> Also, you are all so freaking amazing. Seriously, the comments make my day. I love you guys!


	6. Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke feels the side effects of getting drunk the next morning.
> 
> Someone unexpected stops by.

The light was blinding, and Clarke made a pained sound that almost wasn't human. Michelle had only turned on her small desk lamp, but for some reason it looked like a freaking fluorescent. Her eyes burned, her head already pounding from every little sound that Michelle made from across the room. “Why?” she whined, covering her eyes with her palms.

She heard Michelle walk over to the futon and groaned. “Have you never had a hangover before?” she said in quiet amusement. Clarke groaned again, louder this time. Michelle laughed. “You need to call Finn.”

“That sounds horrible,” Clarke said slowly, her voice hoarse. She smacked her lips a few times; her mouth was uncomfortably dry. A noise came from her desk, and she cracked an eye open to see Michelle standing there.

“If you don’t, I bet he will call you.” She shrugged. “Turn your ringer off in case he does.” That was good advice, and Clarke slowly moved to do it, dropping her phone about three times in the process.. “I got you some water and aspirin. It’s on your desk.” That’s what it was. Clarke glanced at her desk, her sight still slightly out of focus, and frowned.

“It’s bottled water.” What a travesty. She would not support that wasteful scam. Bottled water was evil; it was the enemy.

“Oh my god, get over yourself.” Michelle put on her backpack and headed for the door. “Text me if you need anything. If you feel as bad as you look, you might want to skip class today.” She left as Clarke started whining again.

Why did anyone ever go drinking during the week? Thirsty Thursday was horrible trickery, and Clarke had fallen for it. Now she was faced with that awful dilemma of going to class and being miserable all day, or skipping and being overwhelmed with guilt. Attempting to push her focus from the throbbing in her skull, she tried to remember if there was anything important going on. Quizzes were always announced days in advance, and there weren’t any tests going on that she would miss. Actually, if she needed to miss a day of class today would be ideal. Even if she went, it would be impossible to learn anything with this headache.

Clarke rolled over, having made up her mind. Sleep would help, maybe. She layed there for a moment, then sat up and grabbed the pills and water. Swallowing her distaste, she cracked open the water and took a long drink before popping a few of the aspirin in her mouth. When she woke up, hopefully that would dull the aching.

She fell asleep on the futon, still debating whether or not to climb up to her bed.

 

The vibrating phone on her desk was somehow still way too loud. She answered without opening her eyes, resting the phone on top of her cheek so she didn’t have to hold it. “Hello?” God, she sounded awful.

“Is this--”

“AGH,” she yelled in protest before he could finish, the phone falling off her face. She scrambled to pick it up, then held it gingerly to her ear. “I’m right fucking here, you don’t have to yell.”

A distant laugh came through the phone. That was better. After processing for a moment, she realized it was Finn. Had she given him her number? Last night felt like a dream, and it was hard to remember what had actually happened.

“How are you?” he asked softly.

“Pretty shitty,” she said, wanting to go back to bed. Or die, that would be nice too.

“Do you have class?”

“Not today.” It felt weird to say, and she pushed down the guilt. Sometimes she hated being a responsible student.

“Good, because I want to bring you lunch.”

Clarke made a face; the thought of food made her want to puke.

“It’s hangover food. It will help.” It was like he could read her mind. “It will need to be a late lunch though, I have class at noon.”

“That’s fine,” said Clarke. That gave her more time to sleep and get used to the idea of having something besides alcohol in her stomach without vomiting. “Do you need directions?”

Finn laughed again. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Vaguely. Everything is blurry.”

It was silent for a second. “Well, I carried you home and you passed out.”

“Ugh.”

“You didn’t do anything too embarrassing. By the end you were content just sucking on my neck.” He laughed, and she could picture that adorable smile. It didn’t bring her any joy though, just horror.

“Oh god,” she covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re fine, it was cute.”

“If you say so.”

“I have to go, but I will be at your place in a few hours.”

A few hours? What time was it? She pulled the phone away from her face and noted the time. 10:32. She had already slept over two hours and missed Anthropology. If she hurried, she could make it to Calculus… No, it wouldn’t be worth it.

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye, Princess.”

She scoffed at the name but he was already gone. Instead of trying to fall back asleep, Clarke decided to clean herself up. Her eyes were stinging from the makeup she had slept in, and a hot shower was bound to help her aching body. Also, she really had to pee.

Ah, the price of hydration.

Nobody else was fighting for a shower at this hour, so Clarke was soon enjoying the sensation of steaming water washing over her body. The shower itself was a very small tiled rectangle, just big enough for Clarke to lean over and shave her legs without touching her butt against the wall. The only thing separating her from the rest of the world was the flimsy old curtain that was always littered with stains and stray pieces of hair; which Clarke also avoided brushing against at all costs.

Despite the less than spotless surroundings, Clarke felt extremely relaxed as she lathered her long hair, and took her sweet time scrubbing down and rinsing off. Something about showering made her feel at ease and comfortably isolated, even though anyone who came into the bathroom would be immediately aware of her. Sometimes she even had to fight the urge to sing, just to spare whoever might be trying to pee in peace. Instead, she let her mind wander in ways that for some reason weren’t possible anywhere else.

When her skin became pruny and her head was light from all the steam, she turned off the water and cold air rushed in immediately. Clarke dried off as fast as possible, then threw on her robe and checked herself in the mirror. At least most of the makeup was washed off, and if nothing else she looked refreshed.

Good enough.

As soon as she was dressed, Clarke cracked open her Calculus textbook and tried to do a few problems. Her brain wasn’t working as quickly as usual, but at least the throbbing had died down slightly, making it possible to concentrate. Even so, it was exhausting.

 

The knock on the door was a welcome distraction. It wasn’t even 1:00 yet, but Clarke was glad Finn was early; she was starting to get hungry. It was a good sign that she was starting to feel better.

She opened the door without hesitation, then froze, immediately aware of how long it had been since she last cleaned their room when she saw the person standing in the doorway..

It wasn’t Finn; it was Bellamy.

Noises came from her mouth, but didn’t form any actual words. How did it suddenly become difficult to say _‘What are you doing here’_? He stood there, watching her until she stopped trying to speak.

“You weren’t in class today, Princess.”

“True,” she said softly. “Sorry.” For some reason she felt the need to explain exactly why, even though it didn’t matter. “I wasn’t feeling well after last night--”

He cut her off with a raised hand.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not my business what you do.”

That didn’t stop her from feeling guilty about it, especially since Bellamy was now tutoring her. That meant her success or failure in that class reflected on him, so she wouldn’t be surprised if he was here to reprimand her. Except he didn’t look upset at all, just kind of bored and distracted. He probably had somewhere else to be.

“Then why are you here? Wait, _how_ are you here?” Never had they discussed the dorm Clarke lived in, let alone her room number. It was a little off-putting, to say the least.

“I have my methods, Princess. It’s not important.”

Clarke wrinkled her nose. “That’s really creepy, Bellamy.” She felt kind of bad once the words came out of her mouth; it probably wasn’t appropriate to call her math tutor creepy.

He smirked and sighed. “I needed to let you know that I need to reschedule on Saturday. When you weren’t in class, I asked around and got lucky.”

“Michelle?” she asked.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Michelle?”

“Finn.” Clarke nodded, suddenly realizing how few people knew where she lived. That’s what happens when you lock yourself away all day. “Michelle is my roommate,” she said as an afterthought.

“Right. I don’t know why that asshole knows where you live, but it’s not my problem.” He sighed heavily, and Clarke frowned, the words not registering right away.

“Wait, _Finn_?” She laughed, but took it personally for some reason. It only felt right to defend him, but also made her uncomfortable that they were even talking about it. Bellamy didn’t belong in her personal life. This was her safe space. “I wouldn’t call him an asshole.”

“We’ll see how long you feel that way, Princess,” he said, and she fumed.

“What happened to it not being your problem?’

“It isn’t.” Bellamy returned her anger with a look of sincerity. “Just watch yourself, Princess.”

“I can take care of myself, thanks.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Clarke pursed her lips and took a deep breath to calm herself. It was pointless to argue with him, and she wanted him gone when Finn arrived. She needed time to compose herself once he left.

“I need to push our session back to 4:00 tomorrow.”

“Fine.” She glanced down the hall, nervous that Finn would show up any minute.

“I need a way to reach you if that changes again, or in the future.”

Clarke looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not trekking over here again just for that.”

“Okay.”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?” Did that cross a line? It felt like it, even though it was a perfectly reasonable request. She exchanged numbers with classmates when there was a group project to work on, and this wasn’t that different.

It still felt weird.

“Strictly professional, Princess. It’s less intrusive than knocking on your door, isn’t it?”

He had a point. “Fine.” She reached into her pocket and unlocked her phone, then handed it to him. Her heart stopped when he went into her messages, and he looked up at her, eyebrows raised. Was it that obvious that she was nervous?

“Relax, Princess.” He smiled and sent a message to a foreign number. His pocket buzzed and he handed the phone back to Clarke. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded and he walked away, disappearing around the corner with her still standing in the doorway, phone in hand. Now two guys she didn’t even know very well knew exactly where she lived and how to find her.

Somehow it didn’t make her as uncomfortable as her conscience told her it should.

Suddenly her phone buzzed, and a new message flashed across the screen. It was a number she didn’t recognize, but immediately after reading it she knew who it was from.

**Study up, Princess.**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little shorter than intended, but I wanted to get something posted by the end of today.
> 
> I realize now how long this is going to take to progress... but hopefully it will all be worth it. :)
> 
> Your comments seriously make my life. I love you all so much, and am ecstatic that are you enjoying what I'm writing. <3


	7. Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn treats Clarke to food, she neglects her more studious duties.

After replaying the conversation with Bellamy in her head for nearly an hour, Clarke reeled on Finn when he arrived. As soon as she opened the door, she was demanding information.

“Why didn’t you just give him my number?”

“Hello to you too, Princess,” he said, still smiling despite Clarke’s pursed lips and narrowed eyes. When she saw a large bag of food in his arms, she relaxed a bit. Her forgiveness could be won with treats. She moved to let him in, and fought the urge to snatch the bag out of his arms. Finn sat on the futon, placing the bag between his legs, and started digging around.

“I will ask again: why didn’t you just give him my number?” Finn stopped and thought for a moment, until a light of recognition came on in his eyes.

“Bellamy stopped by?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“What did he want, anyway?” Finn looked curious, but that just annoyed Clarke. He kept avoiding the question. Also, had he really given Bellamy her address without even asking what it was for? That was reassuring. How many other people would he offer that information to? Suddenly she wished moving was as easy as getting a new phone number.

“It was nothing,” she started, but Finn’s face fell at her evasive answer. He looked like a kicked puppy holding a sad foil-wrapped burrito. “He’s tutoring me now, and he had to change around our schedule for tomorrow. It’s not a big deal.”

"I thought he was just your TA?"

"Now he's my tutor too."

“Oh,” he said, then smiled again, pulling two large takeout containers out of his bag and placing the burrito on top of them. “I guess I could have just given him your number.”

Clarke sighed, annoyed, but was now more interested in the piles of takeout. “Yep. What’s that?”

Finn smiled and handed her one of the styrofoam boxes for inspection. Spanish rice, refried beans, cornbread, and a saucy chicken taco. Clarke was nearly drooling, her aversion to food long gone at this point. Finn held out another box.

“They aren’t the same? Isn’t that for you?” She took it when Finn shook his head, surprised at the weight.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I thought we could share a little of everything.”

She opened it up, and the warm, cheesy aroma immediately hit her nose. “Oh my god,” she said, inhaling deeply. It was a huge pile of creamy macaroni and cheese, topped with even more cheese and little squares of bacon and onion. “How many places did you go?”

Finn smiled and handed her another box, along with a tall plastic container. She opened them both and looked at him incredulously. “You brought me pho. I didn’t even know we had pho here.” This was the best food day of her life, or at least since she had started college. “Seriously, how many places did you go?”

“You must not venture very far off campus, Princess. There’s this nice spot not too far from my frat house with lots of restaurants. These are some samples from a few of my favorites, especially after long nights of my brotherly duties.”

“By duties you mean getting wasted and hitting on lots of girls?”

“Exactly.”

All of the food was delicious, but after merely sampling everything Clarke was starting to feel full. They didn’t even eat a third of what Finn brought, though they did try to get most of the pho eaten since it was so much better fresh.

“So, I feel like I should apologize for giving away your address without permission,” said Finn when their conversation started to die down, moving down from the futon onto the floor.

“Probably,” she nodded. It was forgiven at this point, but she would humor him.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to send a message to Bellamy, I guess.” He fiddled with his plastic fork and stared at his hands. “You know, tell him that I already have been to your place, so back off.” He looked really embarrassed, and it probably didn’t help when Clarke laughed in his face.

“Wow, where to start…” she sighed, processing what Finn had just said. Clarke would skip the part where she reprimanded him for apparently _'staking claim'_ to her because he had just spend a million dollars on her and that would be rude. However, it couldn’t go completely unsaid. “You don’t own me just because I like you, so you can stop with the alpha dog crap now, thanks.” She smiled brightly to show him that she wasn’t mad, and he smiled back in appreciation.

“Second, please don’t ever tell my tutor to back off, because if he actually did my dad would kill me.” Clarke stared at him with raised eyebrows, and Finn nodded in understanding. “Third, you really don’t have to worry about Bellamy because I’m pretty sure he hates me. The only reason we even talk is because my dad is paying him.”

Finn frowned. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

“He definitely doesn’t like me.”

A moment of silence passed, and Finn sighed. “Sorry to be possessive, it’s just that every girl seems to fall all over him because he’s older and mysterious and not interested in them.”

“That whole hard-to-get thing is overrated, in my opinion.” Unrequited love sucked. It didn’t make any sense that so many girls openly chased after it. “And he’s not _that_ old or _that_ mysterious. He’s just a grumpy asshole, right?”

A grin spread across Finn’s face. “Yeah, I guess.”

Operation comfort-needlessly-jealous-boy: successful. Clarke pulled herself down onto the floor next to him, legs crossed. Their knees were touching, and she was immensely enjoying the subtle contact. Part of her still wanted to ask exactly how old Bellamy was, after Finn mentioned it, but feared that bringing him up again would somehow retrigger those suspicions. It was so stupid; they weren’t even really dating.

“I like you a lot, Clarke,” he said after a while, grabbing her hand. “I’m really looking forward to getting to know you.”

Clarke looked down, trying to hide her growing smile. “I like you too.”

He kissed her then. It wasn’t their first kiss, but it was still new and exciting to her. It wasn’t deep or passionate, but gentle and soft; comforting. Yet again, Clarke thought that maybe having a relationship wouldn’t be so difficult after all. With Finn, it could be easy.

 

Saturday came too soon, and Clarke had spent only a few hours on Calculus since her first tutor session with Bellamy, and most of that was catching up on what she had missed in lecture on Friday. Finn had distracted her all day, being cute and playful when they weren’t making out, and according to him they would be going out again on Sunday. That left only Saturday morning and early afternoon to prepare, on top of a paper for Anthropology that she had been putting off.

It was irresponsible, but Clarke had been an adult her whole life. College was the time to live a little. Her dad, at least, was proud. Every time they texted now, Clarke made a point to mention her plans because it made him so happy.

**I’m going out tomorrow** , she sent to him when writer’s block hit. The response was immediate, but she ignored it until she finished preparing her plate of leftovers. Despite her initial refusal, Finn had insisted that she keep all the food or he would throw it away. 

_**Am I forgiven? :)** _

Oh man, Clarke didn’t realize how long it had been since she had texted her dad. They usually spoke every day, so she felt bad not noticing his absent commentary on her life. He was clearly giving her time to get over it, except it had been about three days longer than needed.

**Yeah, like days ago. Sorry, I’ve been busy.**

_**Hard classes?** _

**Actually I’ve had a lot of plans. With people.**

_**Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?!** _

**Haha, very funny.**

_**What are your plans today?** _

**Calculus tutoring and homework, but tomorrow I’m going out with a friend.**

_**I’m so proud. :)** _

**I’m finally the daughter you’ve always wanted.**

_**LOL** _

Clarked smiled, and another text came in before she thought of anything else to say.

_**Need to make some calls but have fun sweetie. ilu** _

**Love you too Dad.**

Part of her wished she had said something about Finn instead of just calling him her “friend”, except they had yet to determine their exclusivity. There was no point in mentioning a non-relationship to her dad, even though it almost felt like she was lying to him when she didn’t. He would be so happy for her to have someone, even if it wasn’t serious. Wells had been her last partner, and that ended over a year ago. Clarke was over it, sure, but to move on completely she felt the need to have a relationship with someone else.

 

Her helpful “get ready for tutoring” alarm went off way too early, and she swore loudly as she threw on some clothes and grabbed her books. Thank goodness she’d had the foresight to set one, otherwise she would have definitely been late.

When she arrived at the library, Bellamy was already sitting there, staring off into space with a serious expression on his face. He didn’t acknowledge her until she sat down in front of him, breaking his line of sight.

He looked angry, but Clarke was certain it wasn’t about her. Either way, best to not poke the bear.

“Same drill as last time, Princess,” he said quietly, pushing the materials over before she could even grab a pen. Without warning, he started the timer on his phone. Clarke almost made a noise of protest, but held her tongue after seeing the look in his eyes and began without complaint.

It was more difficult than last time, that was for sure. Not just the problems, but after not focusing much at all on Calculus since their last session, her brain wasn’t working as fast. Last time he had called this a warm-up, but it felt more like a test. She didn’t waste any time complaining, though she wanted to. Bellamy’s expression scared her silent every time.

Eventually she pushed the papers back over to him, thoroughly exhausted. It had taken way too long; she knew that without even asking. Last time had been better.

“You’ve been slacking,” he said after grading her work. “You should at least be able to maintain your time. If not that, improve your accuracy. Today you took over twenty minutes longer and had more mistakes.”

“Maybe there should be a warm up for the warm up.” Bellamy studied her with pursed lips, then packed up his things. So much for getting help on the homework that was due soon. Clarke had screwed up. Maybe it was worth it.

“Consider this a warm up for tomorrow then, Princess. Be here at 1:00.”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times in frustration before words came out. “I can’t, I have plans.”

“Get out of them.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” Spending the day with Finn sounded much better than torturing her brain with stupid drills and getting criticized by Bellamy, especially if he was going to be in a foul mood again.

“Maybe you don’t have a choice.”

What a jerk. It was like he knew she had plans, and just wanted to ruin them (even though that was ridiculous). Clarke pursed her lips, given nothing more than a cold stare from him. “Fine.”

“Try to put in more effort next time, Princess.”

Apparently last time had been a fluke; Bellamy Blake was definitely an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely not my favorite chapter. Too much Finn and not enough Bellamy, but I threw in some Jake Griffin because I missed him.
> 
> I'm trying to pound through two chapters today to post over the next few days, because I'm back at work tomorrow and will need to put in serious effort to find writing time. Makes me miss college (god, that makes me sound really old).
> 
> Seriously, I have never been so dedicated to writing before, and it is largely because of all your beautiful comments. They inspire me. <3
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	8. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into why Bellamy is so grumpy lately, from a new perspective.

“Octavia, call me back.” The messages got shorter with each call. This was the fifth one Bellamy had left that day alone, and he was starting to worry that she was serious when she said she was done with him. It had been over a week, and still no word from her. “Please.” He hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket before unlocking the door to his apartment.

The kitchen bulb flickered as he turned it on and he watched it with narrowed eyes, almost daring it to go out. _Not today, fucker._ He didn’t have any spare bulbs left, and didn’t feel like going out again tonight. It continued for a few seconds, then maintained the dulled shine. _That’s right._

Sometimes he swore the landlord neglected all maintenance just because he knew Bellamy would get it done himself either way. That’s what he got for renting the cheapest place he could find near campus. It wasn’t a bad place to live, really; Bellamy paid for a studio apartment on paper, but what he had was closer to a one bedroom. The kitchen and living area were separated by an open counter attached to the sink; his small bedroom was almost entirely blocked off from the rest of the apartment, except for the half wall that looked out into the living room. He even had a fair amount of storage space between his bedroom and coat closets. Plus his landlord gave him a good rate on a storage locker downstairs that held his bike and some random boxes that he would probably never open.

It was time for dinner, but Bellamy wasn’t hungry; he was too on edge about Octavia. He fought the urge to call her again, on the chance that she would pick up, knowing that it would only hurt his cause. If his sister wanted to talk to him, she would call.

_And if she doesn’t?_ A knot formed in his gut and he did his best to ignore it. If she didn’t call back by tomorrow he was driving over there. Bellamy didn’t care how far it was, or how many classes he would need to miss if the stay was extended; he wasn’t going to let his sister make this decision without him.

Bellamy turned on the television, hoping for a distraction, but gave up after flipping through a few channels. His computer wasn’t any better, because no matter what he tried to do he kept ending up in his email, reading through old messages that Octavia had yet to respond to. He also clicked through a few messages he sent Jasper, Octavia's best friend. Jasper wasn’t any help either; he was standing by Octavia’s silent protest with great loyalty and resolve. That didn’t mean Bellamy wouldn’t keep trying. Jasper was more likely to give in than Octavia.

He dialed Jasper’s number and waited, expecting to hear the familiar voice telling him to leave a message. Instead, he heard a chipper “Jasper’s phone.”

Bellamy was silent from shock for a moment. “Jasper?” It didn’t sound like Jasper.

_“Oy! You weren’t supposed to answer that!”_ Bellamy heard shouts in the distance. _That_ was Jasper. After going through a quick list of possibilities, Bellamy gathered that the voice on the phone was Monty--one of Jasper’s closest friends that he had met multiple times through Octavia.

“Well, I’m not just going to hang up on him.”

_“Yes you are! Octavia’s orders!”_

“You’re rude, I’m talking to him.” There were noises of a struggled, someone screamed _‘You’re going to kill us!’_ , then Monty’s voice came in clear again. “How are you, Bellamy?”

“Fine, is Octavia with you?” He didn’t know what Monty had done to incapacitate Jasper and keep him away from the phone, but he had to assume it wouldn’t last.

“Not right now. We’re picking up dinner and heading over to her place.” Ah, they were in the car. That made sense, and gave him a little more insurance that their conversation wouldn’t be cut short.

“Monty, this is important. When you get there, tell her to call me.” Anxious hope coursed through his veins, his heart pounding too fast in his chest. This was his chance. “Tell her to do it while you’re there, so you can watch. Don’t let her lie her way out of it.”

“Sure, but she won’t listen.” Monty sounded apologetic.

“Make her listen.”

“Dude, do you even _know_ your sister?” He heard a laugh come from Jasper.

“Please, I really need to talk to her. Tell her I’m dying or was in a horrific accident, I don’t care. She just can’t keep avoiding me like this.” After saying it, he wondered what would happen if he actually did get into an accident while she was avoiding him. That stubbornness would bite her in the ass some day.

“Sure, man, we’ll try.” Bellamy faintly heard something that sounded like _‘ **I’m** not trying anything’_ , but Monty interrupted. “Jasper says he will make sure she listens, or you can have his car.” Jasper shouted in protest and Monty cackled, but Bellamy couldn’t find the will to join in.

“Thanks, but I don’t want his car.” _I just want my sister._

 

The next hour was torture. Bellamy had already turned his ringer up all the way, but he kept checking it compulsively anyway. If Octavia did call, he couldn’t miss it. He wished he had thought to ask Monty exactly when they were planning on arriving at her place, but it was too late now; Jasper wouldn’t let another call through after that.

If another hour passed, he would need to accept that she wasn’t calling.

He jumped when his phone rang and rushed to pick it up, but his heart fell when it wasn’t who he expected. **Princess**  flashed across his screen and he ignored it with a sigh. Call-waiting didn’t matter; if Octavia called and he didn’t pick up right away, she might change her mind and hang up. With a slight guilt, he let his phone go to voicemail. If it was important she could text him.

The phone started ringing again, and this time he picked up, annoyed. “What?” he demanded, wanting this to be quick. It came out a little more harsh than intended, but he couldn’t do anything to fix that now.

“Did you know?” His heart fell at the sound of her voice. It was hoarse and uneven, the way Octavia’s got after she had been crying. Had she actually been crying? Was it because of him?

“You’ll have to be more specific, Princess,” he said softly, and Clarke almost cut him off with her fiery words.

“Don’t give me that shit, Bellamy, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sat there quietly racking his brain without success, unable to focus on anything but Octavia’s impending phone call.

“This really isn’t a good time,” he said.

“Well, doesn’t that sound familiar,” she spat. “I guess my time and my commitments don’t matter at all, but if Bellamy Blake has something going on then the whole world had better stop spinning!”

“Is that what you’re calling about? We can reschedule if it’s that big of a deal.” He was growing irritated and just wanted to get to the point. There wasn’t time for this.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. He almost interjected during her momentary pause, but she continued before he could. “Look, it’s not even your fault. You tried to warn me about Finn, and you were right, I should have listened.”

The call waiting started to beep, and Bellamy tensed. That was Octavia, he was sure of it. Clarke was still talking, and he didn’t want to hang up on her because he was a jerk but not that much of a jerk, but he also had no time for this.

“I’m sorry, I just thought you were ruining my day on purpose or something, like you knew something, or maybe something I didn’t...or manipulating me... I don’t know.” Her voice cracked and with it Bellamy’s resolve.

Part of that was true. When Clarke said she had plans, Bellamy knew it would be with Finn. After the display he had given when Bellamy asked for her number, it was clear that there was something going on. That paired with some of the more introverted patterns he had observed with Clarke had him convinced that if she was going out, it would be with Finn. The thought of them being together made him feel… not good. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly. Part of him was jealous, sure, but he also felt strangely protective of her. Finn was capable of so much damage.

It sounded like some had already been done.

“Look, Princess,” he started, painfully aware of the number of beeps he had already heard, and the few he had left before Octavia was gone. “We can talk about this tomorrow, I promise. I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes and clicked to the other line, but all he heard was a dial tone.

He was too late.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make you all wait until tonight for this chapter, but I'm feeling generous. I really love writing Bellamy and am really looking forward to his story.
> 
> Not a complete explanation of what's going on, but that is intentional. :)
> 
> Most of the story will still be from Clarke's POV, but Bellamy chapters might sneak in when necessary.
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for the amazing comments! I try to show my appreciation by responding, but I really can't thank you enough.
> 
> New chapter either tomorrow or the next day. I'm actually posting from work right now. Back to the grind!


	9. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what happened between Clarke and Finn.
> 
> Michelle is awesome.

Clarke put down the phone and almost felt like crying again. It had been stupid to call Bellamy anyway, but she felt like she needed to do something. It was too painful to sit here alone, replaying the scenario over and over again in her head. Just thinking about that made the memory reel start, so she stood up, trying to shake it off. She felt the overwhelming need to punch something or run and never stop.

Before Clarke could put on her shoes and bolt out of the room, the door opened and Michelle stepped in. She was supposed to be gone all day, but Clarke was glad to have her back. “Oh my god, you would not believe the day I’m having,” she sighed, then stopped when she looked at Clarke. Worry crossed her face. “Are you okay?”

Clarke reached for her eyes self-consciously, wishing the red puffiness would go away. It was so incriminating. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she breathed. Michelle eyed her, clearly unconvinced. “No, I guess I’m not.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, and Michelle was soon sitting by her side.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Clarke sighed, frowning. “I might start crying again.”

“Hell if I care, I cry all the time.”

“Yeah well I care. I don’t want to start that all over again.”

Michelle considered that. “Okay, well if you start crying I’ll slap you, how’s that?”

Clarke laughed. “That might make it worse.”

“Whatever, just start talking.”

It was such a relief to have Michelle there, she realized. She needed to tell someone; get it off her chest and out into the world. “I had my tutor session with Bellamy, and he was a real jerk today. He told me I needed to meet him again tomorrow, even though,” she paused and took a breath, “even though _Finn_ had a day planned for us.”

“What a dick!” she shouted dramatically, and Clarke rolled her eyes with a smile. It was times like this she was really grateful to have her as a friend.

“That’s not the reason I was crying.”

“Good, I was worried. You’ve dealt with worse than that.” Clarke opened her mouth to speak again, but Michelle interrupted. “I guess you could be on your period, or something. I cry over the stupidest things. Like last week, I forgot that I wore my favorite underwear the day before--” Clarke coughed and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right, go on.”

“So I tried to call Finn, tried texting him, tried calling him again…but he wouldn’t pick up. I couldn’t reach him, it was like he had fallen off the face of the earth or something. I couldn’t just give up because as far as I knew he was planning our date day that I was going to cancel.”

Michelle nodded slowly. “You could have just gone to his house,” she offered.

“That’s what I did. I didn’t find him right away, but…” There was no need to explain every detail, so she would just cut to the chase. “... I did find his girlfriend.” Saying it out loud wasn’t as bad as Clarke had been expecting. Actually, she was completely tear free and surprisingly calm.

Michelle was a different story. “Are you _serious_?” she said darkly, studying Clarke with pursed lips. “That _motherfucker_ has a _girlfriend_? I watched him lead you on! He was fawning all over you! That little prick acted like he wanted a relationship, and he already had a _girlfriend_?” Her eyes were wild and burning; a storm brewing in silence, about to erupt any moment. “I’m going to **kill** him.” The way she said that, so soft and cold, was terrifying.

Except that wasn’t the part of the whole situation that got to Clarke. It still hurt, but that wasn’t the biggest violation. They weren’t dating; they hadn’t made any agreements or had any conversations about being exclusive. Clarke didn’t feel as though she had been cheated on, not really.

“That’s not what I’m upset about,” she started, and Michelle snapped out of her rage to watch Clarke intently. “I mean, obviously I’m upset about it, because I’m human, but you know what I mean.” The words came easily, because she had been rehearsing them in her head since it happened. “I’ve been cheated on before. It sucks. It hurts worse than anything else in the world.” She sighed. “Finn used me to cheat on his girlfriend. That’s what makes me furious. He used me, and I hurt someone without even knowing it, in a way that I’ve been hurt before. I never wanted to be part of something like that.”

Michelle listened quietly, studying Clarke as she did. “I didn’t know you’d be cheated on before,” she said softly. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Clarke sighed. “It wasn’t entirely his fault. We were never going to last once we went to college, but I wanted to hang on so bad. Wells was my first serious relationship, and I wasn’t ready for it to end. He waited to cut me off for good until he already had someone to replace me with.”

“ _That’s_ why you were such a downer when everyone else was just excited to enjoy college.”

“Pretty much.”

Michelle sat there thinking for a few moments, then clapped her hands together. “Yep, I think this calls for ice cream. My treat.”

“I don’t really feel like ice cream.” Food of any kind didn’t sound good. Food always tasted best when she was happy; bad moods made her lose her appetite. People always told her how lucky she was for that, but sometimes she wished that immediate comfort was an option. Normally she would listen to sad music, clean, or do work until she forgot about it. Sketching used to be her first response during emotional times, but since starting college Clarke had neglected her sketchbook for other things. She did miss it, but now she couldn’t find the inspiration to pick it back up.

“Of course you feel like ice cream, don’t be crazy.” Clarke raised her eyebrows and Michelle deflated. “Okay, fine, _I_ want ice cream. You’re depressing me. In order to cheer you up, _I_ need to cheer up.” She flashed a big smile hopefully and Clarke caved.

The walk felt great; the sun was shining and there was a pleasant breeze. Even though Clarke had already spent a decent amount of time outside compared to her typical Saturday, it felt good to get out of her room again. Every once in a while she looked over her shoulder, afraid to see Finn there, but Michelle kept distracting her with amusing stories and random observations.

“If I get two scoops will you come to the gym with me tonight?” asked Michelle, scanning the menu when they entered the store. There were dozens of flavors, ranging from the standard chocolate and vanilla to something called “superman” and “midnight snack”--whatever that meant. Swirls of chocolate, caramel, and peanut butter decorated many of the flavors displayed behind the counter, and Clarke decided on the always reliable cookies and cream.

“I don’t have a membership to the gym.”

Michelle looked at her in disbelief. “Oh my god, Clarke, you’re serious. We get a membership for free. It’s included in our tuition.” She took her heaping waffle cone from the girl behind the counter with a smile of thanks. “I can’t believe you’ve never been there. How do you stay in shape? You eat so much crap.” To accentuate her point, she took a heaping mouthful, then scrunched her face up in pain. Brain freeze.

Clarke shrugged, turning her own cone slowly to lick away any potential drips. “I walk to class and run sometimes.” The ice cream was delicious, and she had a passing thought that it would go great with Chinese food. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to start going to the gym.

“Whatever, you don’t really run. You did that like twice last year.”

She shrugged again, not having much else to say on the matter. Also, the ice cream was too good to pull away from her face.

“Okay, you’re coming with me today. I don’t care if you have homework, because you I’m not giving you a choice. Your health is more important than your studies anyway. If you’re not careful you’ll die of heart failure before you even get your doctorate.” 

Clarke laughed, not even tempted to protest. These past few weeks had been a lot of fun, and she had to admit that it was all because of Michelle. At this point, she trusted her roommate enough to agree to almost anything she could suggest. _Almost_.

Plus, the gym was a free pass to watch attractive guys get sweaty.

Today, more than ever, Clarke needed that free pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I really love Michelle. Can you tell? :)
> 
> No Bellamy this chapter (sorry, it hurts me too) but he will star in the next one. It's also kind of short, but that's just so I could get it out today. (Otherwise this chapter and part of the next would have been smushed together.)
> 
> I'm trying my best to stay on top of my schedule. Considering that I get *maybe* an hour a day to write now since I'm at work full time again, I'd say that I'm doing a pretty good job. Tomorrow is a non-gym day so I'll have a little more time to get the next chapter done.
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for the comments! They keep me inspired and make me that much more productive. <3


	10. Gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Michelle go to the gym. Stuff happens, and things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy.

Clarke’s workout gear was a little tight on her; proof that she in fact had not been running like she claimed, and fuel for Michelle to coerce her into making this a regular thing. Once or twice a week couldn’t hurt anything, except maybe her grades. Perhaps she would need to crush her tiny growing bud of a social life to make up for that. She frowned as they jogged the couple of blocks to the facility, horrified by her deflated lung capacity and annoyed that they were exercising before they even got to the gym.

The gym wasn’t crowded, but it was also huge. There were dozens of treadmills, ellipticals, various types of bike machines, and that weird running swing machine that Clarke had tried once before at a different place and detested. Down the staircase there was the open weight area, complete with strange training contraptions that Clarke had never used. Cardio was more her thing, to be honest. The third floor looked dedicated to that as well, but there was a spinning class going on so they chose machines in the main area.

Clarke found herself a treadmill in the farthest back row, so she could watch the other patrons from behind. There were a number of televisions for entertainment, but her view of the runners was much more interesting. She started the treadmill slow, then soon increased the pace to a steady jog, all the while staring happily at a particularly nice looking backside. About five minutes into her run he slowed down and she grumbled to herself, scanning the other treadmills for a replacement ass.

It was horrible, really, to objectify the men like that, especially since she hated when it happened the other way around; but this was just part of her healing process. Today it was necessary. _Thank you, beautiful dudes._ If they were working that hard they probably wanted to be looked at anyway.

She decided to enjoy the now-walking backside at least until he was done, which happened much too quickly. When he slowed the treadmill to a stop, he rode it off the backdrop and Clarke sighed--internally, because her breath was completely occupied with the full sprint she was subjecting her body to for some reason.

When he turned around she hit the emergency stop button in a panic, afraid she would fall off the treadmill otherwise. The sudden jolt almost made her topple over anyway.

Oh god, this whole time she had been staring at Bellamy. Bellamy. Her math tutor. Oh god. She tried to purge the memory of his butt from her brain, convinced that she would never be able to see him the same way again. Her cheeks grew hot, and she grabbed the handles on the treadmill, starting it back up again.

“What’s--wrong?” puffed Michelle, still running next to her. Clarke shook her head and topped it off at a more manageable jog.

“I went too fast,” she said simply, glancing at Bellamy again as he wiped his machine down. It didn’t look like he even touched the bar, but it was a nice gesture anyway. He turned toward her and she looked away quickly, her face growing hot again. She could still see him in her peripheral vision, and he was definitely moving their way. _Don’t see me, don’t see me, don’t see me…_

“Hello, Princess.”

_Shit._

Clarke screwed up her face in embarrassment, then turned toward him with a smile. “Hi!” she breathed, as if she hadn’t expected him to be there. Bellamy smirked, and she had a nagging feeling that he knew what she had been thinking about him. That smug bastard.

“Look, I’m sorry--” He started seriously, looking down at his hands.

“Let’s not talk about that here,” she cut him off, and he nodded, studying her now. She didn’t want him to mention that embarrassing phone call right in front of Michelle, and she also didn’t want the ruin the endorphin high by talking about Finn again.

“Honestly, I’m surprised to see you here, Princess,” he said, slinging his towel over his shoulder. Up close, Clarke could see that the curls of hair around his forehead were damp with sweat. It was distracting, and she kind of hated that. She was also immediately aware of the sweat rolling down her own face, hands, and back, and made a note to grab one of those towels next time. “I didn’t take you for the type.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Clarke raised an eyebrow, trying her best to not sound offended. “Are you calling me fat?”

Bellamy laughed. “No, Princess.” He didn’t expand on that at all, and the silence made Clarke feel awkward. Before she was forced to say something to make herself feel less anxious, Bellamy gave her a nod and starting walking away. “Maybe I’ll see you here again.”

“Maybe.”

He grinned over his shoulder, then turned around to look at her, walking backwards. “Don’t forget to be at the library tomorrow, Princess. One o’clock sharp!”

“I’ll be there.”

The moment Bellamy turned around and disappeared down the stairs, Michelle punched Clarke in the arm.

“ _Ow!_ ”

“I didn’t know you were into him.”

Clarke opened her mouth immediately, her cheeks already turning red. “I’m not!” What an absurd thing to suggest. On top of his mood-swings and general assholery, Bellamy was her _tutor_ and her _TA_. The conflict of interest made him even less appealing.

Michelle smirked. “I don’t know, I think might be.” She decreased her speed from the sprint she was doing while Clarke and Bellamy were talking. Clarke assumed the exertion was why she hadn’t joined in the conversation. “You can’t deny that you were checking him out earlier. I saw those eyes, planted firmly on his _derriere_.”

No, she couldn’t argue with that. Had it really been that obvious? Probably. Before she knew it was Bellamy, she wasn’t exactly trying to hide it. “I can appreciate beauty,” she said. “I’m not denying that he’s attractive.”

“No kidding.” She sighed. “Does he only tutor Calculus?” Clarke laughed and the faraway look in Michelle’s eyes.

“Um, I don’t know, probably Abstract Algebra or something? He might have mentioned Differential Equations, but I can't remember.”

Michelle made a face. “God, that sounds even worse. Nevermind, you can have him.”

“I never said I wanted him.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious.”

“Mhmm…”

Clarke frowned and Michelle openly laughed at her. “You’re such a jerk.”

They both increased their speed again, and Michelle put an earbud back in, but kept her right ear open in case Clarke wanted to talk again. She didn’t. Instead, she kept herself occupied with the multiple bouncing bottoms running in front of her, wishing Bellamy would come back and then scolding herself for it.

Against her better judgement, Clarke decided to wander downstairs when they were finished. She said that she wanted to see what kind of machines they had down there, but Michelle just watched her with a knowing look on her face.

Unfortunately, Bellamy was nowhere to be seen. Her disappointment must have been obvious. Not that it made any sense; he was needlessly exhausting to be around with his unpredictable moods and all the crap he said. _God, I don’t even like him. Stupid hormones._

“Next time,” said Michelle with a wink.

“Shut up.”

 

After taking a lovely shower and putting on a fresh outfit, Clarke felt ready to conquer the world. Instead, she cracked open her Calculus textbook and got to work. Michelle opened the door shortly after, running a comb through her dripping wet hair. She took one look at Clarke and shook her head, wringing her hair in the towel one last time before hanging it up.

“How unexpected,” she mused, climbing up the ladder into her bed. That’s where she kept most of her notebooks and textbooks, in the handy shelf that attached to the frame. Clarke didn’t trust those things; she was always afraid Michelle’s would fall in the middle of the night and break something.

“I need to catch up _sometime_ ,” she said. “You keep pulling me away from the more important, academic parts of my life.”

“How about tomorrow when you have a tutor all to yourself?”

Clarke sighed. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Right, I bet you’re too busy flirting to do anything else.” Clarke sighed louder and Michelle cackled in amusement. “Wouldn’t it be nice to get paid for that?”

_Sure._

“More like my tutor is an asshole who thinks it’s best to give me even more work on top of the work that I already need help with.”

Michelle fell silent as she read, and Clarke was grateful for that. It was always nice to do her homework when Michelle was doing the same; it was like a silent bond of productivity. She was always able to concentrate better with studious people around her. Unfortunately many of the libraries on campus were filled with patrons who seemed to do anything but study; hence her hermit-like ways.

“What was he apologizing for?” asked Michelle randomly, about an hour later. Clarke snapped out of her thought, midway through a complicated derivative, and tried to process what Michelle had said.

Oh, back to that again.

“Eavesdrop much?”

“Avoid much?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Yeah, um, I kind of called him and yelled at him.” Michelle’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped dramatically.

“What?!” Clearly this was more interesting than the French she was studying, because she immediately closed her textbook and leaned over the railing of her bed, sitting up onto her knees for a better view of Clarke as she spoke.

“I had just gotten back from the frat house and kind of blamed him since he was the reason I had gone there in the first place, so I kind of called him up and yelled at him and then felt bad about it and tried to apologize but he had to go and we left it at that.” She blurted out the words quickly, now mortified to admit them to even herself, let alone another person. Michelle’s expression didn’t change, and Clarke winced. _That’s comforting._ “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

“Yeah, no shit.” She laughed.

“Thanks.”

“Wow, he must like you.”

Clarke was taken aback by that. “How in the world did you come to that conclusion?”

“You bitched him out earlier today and he still came over to talk to you when he really didn't have to? That says something.” Michelle looked smug. It was annoying.

“Yeah, it says that I was a wreck and he felt bad. Don’t remind me.”

“Oh my god were you crying?” She leaned over the railing further, and Clarke tensed. Sometimes lofted beds were terrifying. Michelle seemed to notice, because she readjusted her position to something more stable.

“ ** _No._** ”

Michelle propped her chin onto her hand. “When you say you were a wreck…”

“Parlez français!” snapped Clarke, desperate to redirect the conversation. “Vous négligez vos devoirs.”

Michelle laughed. “Vous?! Tu me respectes tellement! Merci, merci!”

“Je te deteste.”

“Je t’aime aussi!” She blew a few dramatic kisses and laughed. They both turned back to their textbooks after that, and ended up working much later than either of them expected; especially after wearing themselves out at the gym. Clarke drifted off to sleep at an incredibly reasonable hour with a triumphant smile on her face.

Tomorrow she would be ready for Bellamy’s shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: The translation was requested, so here it is, roughly:  
> "Speak french! You(formal) neglect your homework."  
> "You(formal)?! You respect me so much! Thank you, thank you!"  
> "I hate you."  
> "I love you too."
> 
> I kind of miss French. Good excuse to use it again.
> 
> Some of you are probably going "why was Bellamy at the gym when he hasn't even called back Octavia after he was so dramatic about it what the heck??" And you are right to ask that. All in due time.
> 
> You are so lovely and make me warm and fuzzy with your wonderful comments. Seriously, I wouldn't care nearly as much about posting so often if it wasn't for all you awesome people, so you can thank each other for that. :)


	11. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy talks to Octavia, then has a tutor session with Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so late, but life gets in the way. :)

Bellamy threw his keys on the counter and sighed, staring at his phone. The screen taunted him, flashing the time; a whole two hours after the missed call from his sister. Nothing had changed in that time; the exercise had been a nice distraction, but in the long run it had accomplished nothing. In fact, his best chance had probably been right after missing the call, but his nerves had gotten the best of him.

It was now or never. He selected her number and brought the phone to his ear, holding his breath.

“ _Bell?_ ” Octavia’s voice came through and his heart stopped beating for a moment. He exhaled loudly in relief. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said quickly. “Hi, little sister.”

“ _I tried to call you earlier_ ,” she said matter-of-factly. “ _Monty literally forced me to. He held the phone to my face and everything, and threatened to tie me up if I didn’t cooperate. I don’t know what you did for him, but thanks so much for that._ ”

“I did see that you called,” he said slowly.

“ _Oh? You did? Why did it take you so damn long to call back then?_ ” He sighed at the tone she was taking with him, but decided not to comment on it. Phones were so transparent; if he said the wrong thing he could be back where he was a day ago. He had to be good.

“I needed to blow off some steam,” he admitted, “because I wasn’t sure if I had missed my only chance at speaking with you.”

Bellamy could almost hear her roll her eyes through the phone, and it made him smile despite himself. “ _Yeah, okay, so what did you want to talk about so badly? Oh right, I bet I can guess._ ” Sass dripped from her voice, but instead of upsetting Bellamy it just made him miss her.

He stayed silent for a long moment, wanting to choose his next words carefully. This was where Octavia would either listen, or hang up on him like she had every other time he had broached the subject. “I just want you to hear me out.” He spoke slowly; unaggressively.

“ _Bell, I’ve already told you we aren’t talking about this. I’ve made up my mind, and if you try again right now I’m going to regret picking up this phone and won’t make the same mistake next time._ ” Bellamy heard some noises in the background, and something that sounded like _‘Oh snap!’_ Monty and Jasper were probably still with her.

“Okay,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll drop it.” For today.

“ _Great. Was there anything else you wanted to say?_ ”

The problem with phones was the ease of the getaway. If Octavia disagreed with something he said or wanted to avoid him, she could just leave without consequence. That was the escape Bellamy needed to take away if he was going to get through to her.

“Do you know when you’re leaving?” he asked. It was an innocent question; she had no reason not to answer.

“ _I was going to right away… but Kane convinced me to wait until the semester is over. I can finish the rest of my classes online and the credit will transfer when I need it to._ ”

Bellamy nodded, grateful for Kane. Maybe he could have heard that from him firsthand, if Kane hadn’t been actively avoiding him per Octavia’s request. “That sounds great.”

“ _Yeah, I thought you would be happy to hear that. Anything to keep me around longer._ ”

“I was actually hoping you could come visit me.” There was a long silence on the other end, so he continued. “Just for a week or two, sometime before you leave. I just… want to see you before you go. We can hang out together, like old times”

“ _Aren’t you busy getting a degree at your fancy school?_ ”

“I can make time for you.”

The long silence was infuriating, and Bellamy had to literally bite his tongue to keep from speaking. His jaw was going to be unbearably sore tomorrow, from all the clenching.

“ _Okay_ ,” she said finally, and Bellamy grinned. “ _That actually sounds nice. But I’m not coming all the way over there to watch you sit around and do work. If I’m staying, then we are going to spend time doing things that are actually fun._ ”

“Fair enough.”

“ _Also I get the bed,_ ” she added quickly, and Bellamy sighed.

“Deal.” Maybe it was time to invest in a bigger couch.

 

Bellamy watched the hands of the nearest clock as he waited for Clarke to arrive, tensing as the longer of the two passed the minute mark. She was officially late. Even though she arrived not a minute later, clearly flushed and out of breath, the damage was done.

“You’re late, Princess.” Bellamy didn’t bother looking up from the homework he was already deep into grading. If he had to be there anyway, he might as well get some work done.

“Two minutes,” she said, and he glanced up as she pulled the chair out and sat down.

“Still counts. We said one o’clock sharp.”

“I’m only human.” She pulled out her work and put it aside, watching him.

“That’s a horrible excuse, Princess. I’m only human and I manage to be on time.” A grin spread across his face at her indignant expression. There came a point when it was too much work to resist reacting to her adorable faces. Today that point had come early, because it wasn’t worth the effort to keep frowning when he was happy. Octavia would be coming soon, Clarke was done with Finn, and Bellamy had just received his first payment for this whole tutoring ordeal.

Life was good.

“I’m sure you’re never late for anything,” she grumbled as he pushed the usual packet of work toward her.

“I’m glad you understand, Princess.”

She studied him carefully. “If you ever _are_ late, you should owe me something then.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. Unexpected, but not unreasonable. He was intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“How about actually help me with my homework?” she suggested, and Bellamy’s face fell. He hadn’t expected anything better, but that was the least interesting answer she could have given.

“You don’t need to earn that, Princess, I was going to do that today.” He sighed and turned back to his grading, but she didn’t start on her own work; just frowned at him. “I don’t know about you, but I have at least four hours of doing exactly this.” He gestured to the piles of papers. “Here is as good a place as any, if you want to take advantage of.. it.” He almost said ‘me’, but that was just suggestive enough to be awkward.

Clarke continued to stare blankly at him, and he wanted more than anything to know what she was thinking. Of course that was the thing about mystery; she could be considering what to have for dinner and Bellamy would always imagine something more profound.

“If we are going to be here for a while, should be talk about Finn now or later?” she asked finally.

Of course that was on her mind. Bellamy would be a fool to think anything differently. Just because he had successfully avoided the discussion at the gym, that didn’t mean he could run forever. Besides, she did deserve to know what he knew.

Bellamy pushed the papers aside and folded his hands on the table. “What do you want to know?” he asked, trying to suppress his bored expression.

“What did you know when you said Finn was an asshole?” she asked.

Bellamy sighed. “Okay, Princess, how about we avoid beating around the bush and I just tell you what I need to tell you.” Clarke pursed her lips and nodded. “Good.” He sighed again, composing his thoughts. “Finn is an asshole, because he just is. He knows he’s attractive, he knows girls will fall all over him, and he uses them. If I wasn’t being paid for it, I wouldn’t choose to surround myself with people like him. I don’t get why anyone else does.”

“He’s charming,” Clarke muttered.

Bellamy laughed darkly. “You know who else was charming? Ted Bundy. Charm is not a good judge of character.” That was kind of harsh, to compare Finn to a serial killer, but he smiled internally when Clarke didn’t protest.

“Yeah, well, I can see that now.” She didn’t keep pressing, and for a fleeting moment Bellamy considered just stopping there. Clarke wouldn’t know any better if he claimed to only know that much; to not know about Raven. He watched her read the first problem, about to drop this subject and never bring it up again. As he studied her face, he felt a nagging guilt.

He sighed, despite himself. “I knew about Raven,” he said, and Clarke snapped her head up, her eyes growing stern as she processed those words. “At least, I knew she and Finn were a couple for some time.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not my business? I don’t want to be that guy, it just doesn’t work. I told you what I knew: Finn is an asshole. Raven goes to a different school, I hadn’t even seen her yet this year.”

“So?”

“So if they weren’t actually together and I said Finn had a girlfriend I’m just the meddling jerk. It’s not my job to look after Finn’s conquests, that’s too exhausting and I have my own life to worry about.”

“Why did you say anything at all then?”

Bellamy fell silent, looking between her eyes. That was a damn good question. He made a point to avoid getting involved. Saying anything at all brought the victim back to him with questions, and then anger if he told the truth; distrust if he lied. It was better to stay at a distance and away from blame. This was a prime example, except Clarke didn’t look very upset, even though her brow was furrowed and her lips were turned down in a frown. Or perhaps he just didn’t read her as well as he thought.

“I suppose I messed up, Princess,” he said. He messed up because he got mad; mad at Finn for pursuing her and mad at Clarke for falling for it. Normally he didn’t really care. Most of the time the girls were ignorant and shallow anyway, and would benefit from that life lesson. Clarke was different. He didn’t know why exactly, but she was. There was something about her that intrigued him, and some deep instinctive feeling that he wanted to protect her.

That was ridiculous. She was an adult and Bellamy had more important things to worry about. Blood was thick, and he needed to concentrate on protecting his sister.

“Honestly, I’m glad you did. I was just wasting my time.”

They both turned back to work, and Clarke finished her packet in record time. Bellamy had made it short on purpose; he was feeling generous today. By the time she turned to her homework, he was nearly halfway done with grading for one of the three classes. As he had predicted, Clarke’s questions were few and far between. Sometimes just being around the students and available for help was enough to keep them happy. It was frustrating when all he had to do was watch them and be available for help, but today it was ideal.

The first question she asked wasn’t even related to the problem she was struggling with; it actually wasn’t a question at all.

“You made it sound like Finn does that a lot.”

“Yes, Princess.”

Clarke sighed and glanced up at him, then back to her work. “Good riddance.”

That about summed it up.

By the time Clarke had gotten to the problems from their most recent lecture, the questions started flowing. It gave Bellamy a much appreciated break from grading; the Abstract Algebra students were depressing him. For math majors, they weren’t very good at it.

“Show me how you think it’s done, Princess,” he said, and she looked at the problem uncertainly, writing out the work slowly. When she looked lost at a particularly complicated equation, he stopped her. “You’re thinking about it too hard. Don’t worry about the big picture, Princess. This is all about the details. What does this become with respect to ‘v’?” She looked at the problem, and he grabbed her pen from her and circled all the necessary parts.

“I would rather use ‘u’.” Exactly. Bellamy smiled internally.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, it feels right.” Not good enough.

“ _Why_ , Princess?”

She thought hard about it; Bellamy could almost see the gears turning behind her eyes. “Because it’s cleaner. The derivatives are easier, and with ‘v’ as a constant that will cancel out nicely.” She pointed to two parts of the equation and nodded to herself.

Bellamy smiled and leaned back. In the real world she wouldn't be able to choose which derivative to do--that would be provided--but the fact that she understood enough to make that call pleased him. “There you go. Do it.” She did, and he checked her work. “Well done, Princess. You’re getting the hang of this.” He pushed the paper back to her and she smiled back at him. “Now do it with respect to ‘v’.”

“I thought this was right?” She frowned at him and took back her pen.

“It is, but if Kruglikov asked for the other way on a test you need to be able to do it. Practice makes perfect, Princess.”

It continued like that for the next half hour, but by the end Clarke was finishing the problems completely on her own. The only one that stumped her in the last hour was a particularly nasty real-life application problem that wasn’t worded very well in the textbook, so Bellamy viewed that as a success. His grading was much further along as well, with just two more assignments to get through from his Differential Equations class.

They both packed up their things, Clarke tilting her head to glance at the papers he had just finished grading before he shoved them neatly into his bag. “Thinking about taking Diff-E-Qs, Princess?” he asked, and she looked away.

“I’ve considered it,” she said quietly.

“If you’re interested, you should. It’s easier than this class.”

“Maybe I will, if I have the time for it.”

He nodded at her, mentally flipping through his schedule for the week. It might take some effort to fit in more than one session, with everything else he had going on. “Well, with that finished you shouldn’t need me until later this week, if at all,” he said. “I’ll text you some options after I look at my schedule.”

Clarke nodded, and they parted ways. As he walked out to his car, Bellamy pushed down the inappropriate and ridiculous temptation to run back and ask her to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it make me a huge nerd that writing about advanced Calculus makes me want to get out my old textbooks? Probably.
> 
> Anyway, I'm not going to promise updates at a specific time anymore, because that is just too stressful when other things come up. (Like not getting home from work/gym until after 9:00 the past two days.) Then I feel bad if I miss the promised update like what happened last night. That said, I will still try to update very frequently. Once a day is ideal, of course. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting! Makes me so happy.


	12. Improvement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has good news.

Clarke could hardly contain herself as she flung herself through the door, dropping her bag on her desk. Michelle wasn’t around unfortunately, so she immediately called up her dad and started pacing; too excited to sit down just yet. The phone rung too many times and went to voicemail, but Clarke continued to pace, phone in hand, watching for his call back.

She smiled when it rang two minutes later. She loved her busy, but reliable dad.

“Hi Dad,” she said after one ring.

_“Is everything okay sweetie?”_ He sounded concerned; she rarely called during the week. That was reserved for matters too important or serious for texts.

“Yeah, everything is great,” she said with a smile. “I just got my second assignment back, and with that and the quizzes we’ve had, I have an A in Calculus!”

_“That’s great!”_ he sounded a little distracted, but that was expected at work. She appreciated him calling her back anyway.

“Well, an ‘A-’ actually, but close enough.” It was literally a 90% and some change, but that was good enough for her right now.

Her dad laughed. _“It will be a high ‘A’ soon, I’m sure. Does that mean tutoring is working?”_

Clarke was taken aback by the question, but thought about it begrudgingly. It would obviously be assumed that her success was because of the tutoring, which part of her loathed. The idea that she could only do well with help was frustrating and probably not even true, but there was no reason to completely disregard all the time Bellamy was giving her.

“Yeah, it’s definitely worth your dollar. Thanks, Dad.”

_“My pleasure, sweetie. I actually need to get back to work, but I’m glad you called.”_

“Say no more dad, I’ll talk to you later.”

_“Love you, Clarke.”_

“I love you too.”

She hung up, glad for the opportunity to spread the message to someone. It felt good to have that accomplishment, and she needed more people to know. More than that, she wanted to say it out loud again. Michelle needed to stop whatever she was doing and get home. It was times like this Clarke wished she had more friends.

After an hour of reading boring Anthropology homework, Clarke gave up on waiting for Michelle to get back. She picked up her phone and started typing, unable to suppress the stupid grin on her face. **I have an A in Calculus! Super pumped.** The message sent and she bit her lip, not waiting long for the reply.

**girl ur da best!! line em up knock em down**

A handful of emojis followed and Clarke laughed. That was that. The high of triumph passed even faster this time, and there wasn’t anyone else to tell.

Immediately after thinking that, Clarke felt horrible. Of course there was someone else to tell. She opened her laptop and went to her email. No emails from her mom were on the front page, which made her feel even more guilty, so she composed a new one.

**Hi mom!**

She frowned and deleted it after a moment of deliberation.

**Hello, Mother.**

No, that sounded even worse. She sighed. **Hi, Mother. Hello, Mom. Dear Mom. Mom! Abby. Mother.** Everything looked wrong. Clarke sighed and closed her eyes, composing herself. This was ridiculous. Her mom would just be happy to hear from her.

**Mom,**

**Sorry it has been so long since my last call or email. I’ve been busy with school, as usual, and have gone out a few times with Michelle. I don’t let my social life interfere with my workload, but it has been a lot of fun. That’s what college is for, right?**

She frowned again and deleted that sentence, then rewrote it in frustration. _Stop being so insecure, Clarke._

**How is work at the clinic? Did Callie’s daughter have the baby yet? I seem to recall her being due around this time. Please send her my regards either way!**

**I assume that Dad fills you in on the more important information from our conversations, so hopefully by now you know I have a tutor for Calculus. That is going great actually; I just got back an assignment that pushed my grade up to an A! My other classes are going well too, but I just wanted to tell you about that since it is my biggest struggle this semester and also greatest improvement.**

**I hope you are doing well.**

**Love, Clarke.**

She reread the email half a dozen times, knowing it was too short but unable to bring herself to elaborate. Small talk with her mom was awkward and pointless. She didn’t want to divulge any details about her nights out either, since her mother frowned upon reckless behavior more than her dad. Fun was okay, but in moderation and never at the expense of academics.

After a few minutes she bit the bullet and pressed send, then closed her laptop. Looking around the room, she decided that the rest of her homework could wait. It was so nice outside, and after that unnecessarily stressful email she deserved a break.

**Tell mom to check her email.** She texted her dad quickly before locking up her dorm, knowing full well that her mother would check it tonight either way. Even so, Clarke wanted him to know that she sent it, and was trying. A little credit for that was nice.

**Proud of you.**

She smiled when she got outside and lifted her face to the sun, enjoying the warmth on her skin. There was a nice subtle breeze that rustled the red and orange leaves in the trees, and the already cool temperature meant Clarke finally got to wear a sweater outside without overheating. Fall was by far her favorite season; if only it could last longer.

Without a real destination, Clarke decided to wander around her favorite part of campus. It was a location that was always pictured in every brochure for the University, just because of the beautiful architecture of a dozen old buildings framing the large courtyard. It looked like a classic campus, even though the University in its entirety was much larger than just a few blocks. Dozens of students were napping and studying in the large lots of grass along the center of the courtyard, and wide pillars for posters and advertisements were placed along the sidewalks every few meters. Clarke walked up to one and skimmed over posters requesting students for psychological studies, medical studies, and pregnancy studies, STD studies... There were a few University club advertisements as well, some brochures for local restaurants and small theaters, and underneath a large poster for a campus musical production there was another for a concert of local musicians. She pushed away the other pieces of paper to read more; she had never heard of the bands but judging from the art it looked like a hipstery venue.

It was this weekend. For some reason, she really wanted to go. The bands were unknown to her and could very well be complete garbage, but the idea of going out on the weekend for something other than attracting guys and getting drunk sounded incredibly appealing. Clarke texted Michelle, still holding back the other postings with one hand. **Concert this weekend. Local bands, on campus. Want to go?**

**hell yea!** The response was immediate and Clarke grinned, snapping a quick picture of the poster for reference.

 

On Friday Clarke nearly skipped to her tutor session, which made Bellamy give her a hilarious look as she approached their table. She set down her things with a smile and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“You are suspiciously cheerful,” he said slowly, pulling out his papers. Clarke did the same, still smiling and suddenly excited to share her not-so-new-anymore news with someone else.

“I have an ‘A’ now!” she mused.

Bellamy laughed. “I know that, Princess. I’m the one who grades your work, remember?” Embarrassment colored her cheeks when he smiled at her.

“Oh, right.”

“If you want to keep that ‘A’, we will need to do some review for your midterm today and this weekend.” He flipped through a short packet of papers then passed them to her.

“When this weekend?” she asked, and Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “I have plans on Saturday night.” She spat out the words then watched him, nervous that he would be a dick again and force her out of them, but he just shrugged.

“That’s fine, we can meet on Sunday.”

Clarke studied him, unconvinced. “So you’re not going to make me cancel my plans and come here instead like last time?” The words came out slowly; suspiciously.

“No, I’d rather not be harassed on the phone tonight.” Bellamy looked at her pointedly, and she felt her face getting red. Ugh, she would never be able to live that down.

“I’m sorry--”

“I’m kidding, Princess.” He cut her off with a smirk. “I was having a bad day. It was a bad call, don't make me apologize again." He paused. "Let’s get started on those drills.” He nodded to the papers in front of her, and Clarke obliged.

A few problems in, and she was already frowning. “These are different.” By ‘different’ she meant ‘difficult’, but she didn’t want to openly complain about it. There weren’t nearly as many, but they were more work intensive and advanced than usual.

“This is a practice exam, Princess. Take your time, but not more than two hours.”

Clarke glanced at the clock; she was already thirty minutes in. When had that happened? Two hours was all she would get for her actual exam, but when her time was up she still had one problem unfinished and another completely untouched. Defeated, she watched Bellamy grade her work. He went a lot slower this time, looking over every detail of her solutions.

After what felt like an hour, he passed the practice test back over to her. An angry red ‘70%’ glared back and her and the cheerfulness from earlier all but disappeared.

“It’s still a passing grade,” said Bellamy, watching as her frown started to resemble a pout. “With your current grade you would almost have a ‘B’ minus.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“It’s just your first try. You will have at least two more practice runs before the exam to get your speed up.”

“Why are you being so nice?” she asked, and he looked taken aback.

“What? I’m nice.”

Clarke coughed violently, so surprised by that statement that she had choked on nothing. “Sure, yep, that’s you.” She nodded, clearing her throat a few times. Her thoughts went a little further. _When someone says Bellamy Blake, the first thing I think is nice, absolutely. Jerk, arrogant, douchebag, and annoyingly hot are definitely the last things that come to mind._ **Nice.** _Perfect descriptor._

“I can be nice,” he reiterated.

“ _‘Can’_ being the most important word.” She mumbled, but it was clear that he heard her.

Bellamy scoffed. “Fine.” His voice got louder, and colder; his body stiff. The sudden shift was slightly unnerving. “That was horrible, Princess. If you keep up like that you won’t even pass this class. Those questions are much easier than what will be on the exam, so you’d better take whatever free time you have tomorrow to study or don’t even bother coming on Sunday.” He waited a beat, then relaxed with a smirk. “Better, Princess?”

Clarke laughed, sincerely surprised that he was willing to joke about himself like that. It was refreshing.

“Much better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG guys this took so long to write, I'm sorry. Work, gym, dog, life... The usual drill. I kind of got writers block on this chapter, but I've been working on a more detailed outline for the rest of the story (the long, long story) so hopefully that won't happen much more. :)
> 
> Octavia (and now Abby) will be addressed in good time. Patience, readers, patience.
> 
> I'm really looking forward to these next few chapters though. :)
> 
> As always, I adore your comments! They are what drive me to keep writing (and at least attempt a frequent update schedule). Love you all. <3


	13. Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's day before the concert; then at the show an unexpected conflict arises...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late--sorry--but also long, so hopefully it makes up for it. :)

It was Saturday. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Clarke’s bed was like a fluffy cloud of pillows and blankets, urging her to sleep longer. It was her only day to really enjoy waking up; classes ruined the week, and Sunday was ruled by all the homework that needed to get finished that weekend. Saturday was the best day for relaxing.

Why Clarke was already up, she didn’t know.

It was eight in the morning, and she couldn’t fall back asleep.

Restlessness overwhelmed her, and she felt anxious with nothing to be anxious about. That happened every once in a while, and it was terribly irritating.

Her entire body screamed at her, telling her she needed to do something; anything. Homework, drawing, running; anything.

She was already ahead on her homework, sketching would take up her entire day if she started now, and running was the easiest thing to pick up on the fly. Clarke threw on some ratty clothes and tied back her hair, shaking the frame of Michelle’s bed before she left. She was a heavy sleeper, so Clarke wasn’t worried about disrupting her if she wasn’t already partially awake.

“I’m going for a run,” she said when Michelle groaned at her.

“You kidding me?” she mumbled sleepily. “The fuck time’s it? Fucking crazy.” The bed creaked as she rolled over, turning her back to Clarke, who was soon out the door.

The halls were nearly deserted; very few students were stirring from their beds this early, even though the sun was already high in the sky. Brunch didn’t even start for over an hour, so that made for a great excuse to sleep a little longer. Clarke sighed. If only her body had let her do that today.

She started down the bike path that ran along the river, enjoying the views. Wildlife was active and awake, even though the students weren’t. Birds chirped happily and squirrels skittered around the trail, searching for acorns. _Enjoy this while you can, birdies._ It wouldn’t be long now before everything would be cold and covered in snow.

A few other people were out running and biking, but for the most part Clarke had the trail to herself. The steady pace of her legs allowed her to brain to relax, and she enjoyed the rare silence between her ears. Clarke did enjoy the gym, based on the handful of times she had gone with Michelle, but there was something so serene about running alone in nature.

She turned around after a few miles, and didn’t realize how exhausted she was until she stumbled back into her room and collapsed onto the futon. Michelle walked in a few minutes later, still in her pyjamas.

“What got into you this morning?” she asked, glancing at her before climbing back into bed with her laptop.

“I just needed to do something,” she shrugged, then groaned. Moving hurt.

“Girl, you need to stretch.”

“ _You_ need to stretch.” Michelle shrugged but Clarke climbed onto the floor to do just that. “Are you hungry?” Her own stomach was starting to complain now that her body wasn't working so hard.

“Give me, like, twenty minutes.”

Clarke groaned, spreading her legs and stretching out her thighs. God, that felt good. “Twenty minutes?”

“Keep distracting me and it will be longer.”

Twenty minutes felt like an eternity. The restlessness was starting to creep back in, and Clarke really didn’t feel like opening up her Calculus book just for ten minutes of studying. Instead, she sprawled across the floor on their plush area rug and neglected to change out of her sweaty clothes. When Michelle climbed down her bed Clarke jumped up, and they went down to the dining hall looking like a pair of slobs.

Actually, Michelle looked just fine in her cute comfy pants and plain t-shirt; Clarke was the one who looked like a mess. It didn’t matter either way, because nobody tried very hard on the weekends until after sundown.

“What time is the concert?” asked Michelle when they got their food. There were french toast sticks today, and Clarke piled about four servings onto her plate. Whatever, she just ran five miles.

“I don’t remember,” she said through a mouthful of roasted potatoes, which were also delicious. With a few swipes, she found the picture on her phone and passed it over. Michelle studied it with a frown.

“I thought you said these were local bands.”

“Arent’ they?”

Michelle laughed. “Like… two out of five are.”

Clarke grabbed the phone back and studied the picture, certain she didn’t recognize any of the names. “Well they’re small bands then."

"I guess? I've heard of them all. Just don't say things like that at the show, you'll make yourself look stupid.”

“Whatever, same thing. They’re local somewhere.” Michelle shook her head as Clarke shrugged.

“Thank god you have me around.”

 

When they got back to their dorm, Clarke realized she had over eight hours to kill before the concert. Too much fun early in the day would be exhausting, so that was off the table; Clarke was actively avoiding Anthropology until she was forced into caring again by an exam; and she was completely caught up in all her other classes.

Possessed by some unknown force, she opened her phone and pulled up Bellamy’s number.

**I have time today after all if you want to math it up.** She pressed send before rereading the words and hearing how lame they sounded. Nobody said that.

_**You don’t have to make it sound like my idea, Princess. If you are asking me to meet you just say so.** _

Clarke scoffed and rolled her eyes, making Michelle poke her head up from on top of the bed. **I’m asking you to meet me.**

_**Why so eager? Can’t wait until tomorrow?** _

**I’m bored.**

_**Most people don’t solve that with Calculus.** _

Clarke laughed and Michelle snapped her fingers. “Hey, who is it?” Clarke waved her off without answering, then dodged the pillow thrown at her face. “It better not be Finn.”

“It’s not.”

**Well, I’m not most people.**

**_Clearly._ **

She read the single word about five times, trying to decipher the meaning behind it, if there was any. More likely than not, he was calling her a big nerd for choosing to do math in her free time. Clarke didn’t really have a problem with that.

**So can we meet up?**

_**Not today, Princess. I have other commitments.** _

Clarke frowned as she typed. **Why didn’t you just say that?**

_**You said you were bored. I was being entertaining.** _

**Ok.**

_**You don’t need me around to study, Princess.** _

Putting down her phone, she sighed. Bellamy was right, but it was somehow easier now with him around. At first it had distracted her and made her feel self-conscious, but after weeks of sessions she now felt more at ease being able to have any of her questions answered without deliberating for hours or scouring forums online.

Her phone blinked one last time and she picked it up, smiling.

_**Impress me tomorrow.** _

 

An hour before the concert, and Clarke was wishing she had never seen the flyer. What a horrible idea; putting herself into this position of having to make herself look nice enough to satisfy Michelle again. “It’s just a concert,” she said as Michelle threw another outfit at her to try on. “I’m not looking for a date.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She inspected the outfit, then gestured for her to take it off.

“It kind of does.”

“Just because you aren’t on the prowl doesn’t mean you can’t look good. You should always make some effort.” She grabbed one of the other options that she had set aside earlier. “This is the one.” Clarke put it on, grateful that she had chosen one that wasn’t a dress.

“You know, I can dress myself.”

“No you can’t.” It wasn’t worth arguing.

 

The music had already started when they arrived, because Michelle wanted to stop and eat something in case they drank too much, which honestly was a good save after Clarke’s last drunken escapade. The venue was bigger than Clarke had been expecting, and a lot more crowded considering the obscure line-up. There was a large bar area in the back with stools and tables set up across the floor. A few steps led down to the lower floor, where most people were standing. Tables and chairs framed the sides, but all of those were taken. Smaller bars were set up behind them with a more limited selection. Only five people were up against the stage right now, and two of them were dancing ballroom-style as the band played a slow song.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Michelle said after they got a drink. Clarke hadn’t even realized there was an upstairs, but sure enough there was a staircase tucked away by the bathrooms. All the best spots were taken, but Clarke didn’t care much about actually seeing the performers; hearing the music was enough. Michelle felt differently, so the surveyed the place looking for an open spot to stand. She decided to climb onto the flat platform around a pole for about ten minutes until a bouncer told her to get down.

The next band went on, and at first Clarke expected them to be more of the same, but after a short mellow intro the guitar came in riffing hard, joined by stronger vocals. It was surprising to hear such power coming from the small singer in a crop-top batman shirt and black high-waisted shorts matched by the bassist. “Which band is this?” she asked, leaning into Michelle.

“I Saw the Creature.”

“I kind of love them.” She took a sip of her drink, fighting the urge to start headbanging when the guitar and rhythm kicked in again, more powerful this time.

“They’re different. I’ve never seen them live before, but they’re good.”

The set was done much too quickly, after about four songs, and soon the next band was setting up. Apparently this was going to take longer, because the crowd started to shift around and line up around the bars.

“Do you want anything?” Clarke offered, noticing that Michelle was done with her beer.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it--” She turned around as she spoke, and collided hard with a body. The force knocked her back and she reeled, ready to apologize profusely until she saw the harsh face staring back at her. She winced as she composed herself, her body throbbing from the impact.

“Raven…” Clarke didn’t realize she had said that outloud until Raven’s eyes narrowed. She smelled heavily of alcohol.

“Hi, bitch,” she spat, crossing her arms. Michelle stepped in protectively, putting space between Raven and Clarke. Raven looked between the two of them and nodded, venom in her eyes. “Is this your friend, bitch?”

“Hey, don’t be so fucking rude. We’re going to walk away, and you’re going to leave us alone.” Raven pursed her lips, still staring the two down, but Michelle grabbed Clarke by the arm and pulled her away.

“Thanks. I really don't need that tonight,” Clarke mumbled to Michelle, who squeezed her arm sympathetically. At least the next band was coming onto the stage; that would give her a distraction from the uncomfortable knot in her stomach.

“Yeah, just walk away, you fucking slut!” Raven yelled after them, causing a few people to turn their heads. Clarke ignored her, but felt Michelle leave her side.

_“ **What** did you call her?!”_ In a few steps the space between them was closed;Raven didn’t flinch when Michelle got in her face.

“I called her a slut," she spat the word, "because that’s what she is. Just a little fucking whore--”

Before Clarke realized what was happening, Michelle punched Raven. Hard. In the face. Raven stumbled, holding her nose as it started gushing blood. Shock crossed her eyes, which quickly turned into anger. She lunged at Michelle, pulling her to the ground, clawing and punching sporadically. Clarke ran over and tried to pull Raven off, but she was stronger than she looked and wouldn’t budge as she attacked Michelle, kicking and scratching from beneath her. People gathered around, but it took a few minutes for security to arrive and pull Raven off of Michelle, who was still trying to fight. The second bouncer pulled her back, nearly lifting her up off the ground.

“You need to leave,” he said calmly.

Clarke nodded, but Michelle reeled around to look at the other bouncer. “Does _she_ have to leave?” Clarke sighed in embarrassment; fairness wasn’t important right now. She was honored that Michelle had defended her like that, but right now all Clarke wanted was to get home with nobody getting arrested.

“That’s not your concern.” He walked them over to the small merch table by the exit and released Michelle with a small shove. “Get out of here, or the police will get involved.”

“Kind of harsh for a little brawl.” Clarke kicked her.

“We’re leaving,” Clarke assured him, and he nodded. She pulled Michelle out the door, releasing the breath she had been holding. “Wow,” she said, glancing at Michelle, who wiped the blood from her nose. She had a few cuts on her cheek and one on her forehead that was dripping.

Michelle cracked a smile and started laughing. “I had to punch her, she was being such a bitch.” Clarke couldn’t argue with that. “No wonder Finn wants to get rid of her so bad.”

Clarke frowned; that was a low blow, but she wasn’t going to say anything after Michelle had straight up been in a fight for her. “Come on, I’ll clean you up at home.”

“Whatever, I look awesome.” She said with a grin, but they went home anyway. Conflict was exhausting. Once Michelle’s wounds (and Raven's blood) were cleaned and patched up, they both went to bed. Clarke fell asleep staring at her phone, debating whether or not to text Bellamy about her eventful night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a long time to write, because I've been busy. 
> 
> Shout out to I Saw the Creature--an actual band from Madison, WI. I know the singer and guitarist, and thought I would use the opportunity to include them.
> 
> I'll try to complete the next chapter tomorrow and post it then or in a few days to avoid long waits like this again.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments! You are all wonderful, and I appreciate everyone who reads this. :)


	14. Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tutor session, Bellamy is hurt. Clarke helps him.

It started raining as Clarke walked to the library and she lamented her forgotten umbrella, still hanging in the back of her closet. She tried ducking under trees the rest of the way, but by the time she arrived she was still sopping wet. Looking at the clock, she was ten minutes early so she put her stuff down at their usual table and went to the bathroom to wring out her clothes. When she got back Bellamy still wasn’t there.

Five more minutes passed, and she pulled out her phone. No calls or texts. Had he forgotten? **You’re late.** Part of her felt smug writing that, but she also hated waiting for people like that with no word. Maybe he had forgotten.

As she thought that, Bellamy stumbled in, limping a little, his bag hanging off of him awkwardly. When he got closer she realized his head was gushing blood and his arms and legs were full of mud.

“Hey, Princess.”

“Oh my god!” She jumped up, and immediately unzipped her backpack, fumbling around for her first aid kit. “What happened?”

Bellamy collapsed into the chair, grunting. He wiped his forehead with his hand, raising his eyebrows at all the blood. “I slipped, fell off my bike.” He pointed to the helmet hanging off of his bag. So nonchalant, like he wasn’t making a mess of himself and the library. “It’s raining, you know.”

“Well, I need to clean you up.”

“No you don’t, Princess.”

“Yes I do. It is my obligation as a premed student. Plus it’s good experience. I don’t get to treat real patients until medical school.”

He studied her with an odd expression for a moment. “Fine.”

“Good. There’s a few single bathrooms on the second floor.” They walked there, Bellamy sighing loudly as she insisted on helping him up the stairs. She couldn’t help but feel awkward slinging his arm over her shoulders for support, and it didn’t help when he pulled away.

“I’m not a fucking cripple, I just fell off my bike.”

“That’s rude, Bellamy.” Thankfully there weren’t any actually handicapped people around. “You could have a sprain, or a concussion.”

“Or maybe just a few bruises. Oh, the horror!”

“Shut up.”

Despite his protest, he did lean on Clarke halfway up the staircase. She gingerly placed a hand on his upper back, uncertain if that was the least bit helpful. Even the slight touch made her heart beat faster for some stupid reason; it felt so _weird_ to have that contact with Bellamy, like they were friends or something. It was a relief when they got to the bathroom and separated.

He sat on the toilet as she washed her hands, holding a wad of toilet paper to his face to clean up the fresh blood. She put on the medical gloves and grabbed a lot of gauze. “Lay down,” she said, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Are you serious, Princess? This floor is disgusting.”

“I think the floor is more disgusted by you at this point.” It came out of her mouth before she thought the words through, but he didn’t look offended. With all the blood, dirt, and rain coating him it was a fair statement. He laid down and she placed the gauze on his cut, applying pressure. After five minutes he opened his eyes and looked up at her.

“I think it’s stopped now.” He moved to get up, but she pushed on his shoulder to hold him down, ignoring the incredulous look on his face and the slight heat in her cheeks. Even through his shirt and jacket, she could feel the tight muscles around his collar. She ignored the temptation to create an excuse to touch him again, elsewhere, and settled for letting her hand remain firmly against him.

It wasn’t professional to get distracted like that.

“Trust me, I’m the future doctor.”

She didn’t even like him. _Pull yourself together._

“Yeah, about that,” he stopped pushing against her hand and settled back. “Either you’re full of shit or you’re an idiot.”

“Are those my only options?” Begrudgingly, and mostly because it would be inappropriate not to, she lifted her hand off of him and placed it on top of her own for the added pressure.

His eyes narrowed, studying her. She held her composure. Something about the clear power dynamic of patient and 'doctor' made it easier to hold her ground, even though her natural response to his judgement was to feel intimidated.

“You don’t need to take this class if you’re a premed student. Advanced Calculus is for engineers and mathematicians. You’re not even in the IT college.”

Clarke clenched her jaw and removed the gauze. The wound had clearly stopped bleeding, so she moped up the dried blood around it and placed a bandage on top. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, thankfully. “I took it as an elective.”

“People just don’t do that. Why would you subject yourself to one of the most failed classes in at the University?”

Clarke didn’t answer, just tugged at Bellamy’s collar, signally him to take off his jacket. He obliged slowly, staring at her with pursed lips. A little blood was soaked through the fabric at his elbow, but the scrapes weren’t bad.

“I deserve to know why I’m working my ass off to help a student who doesn’t even need to pass the class.” He didn’t flinch when she cleaned the scrapes with rubbing alcohol, or when she slapped on a bandage a little to hard.

Clarke huffed. “I still need to pass the class.”

“You know what I mean, Princess.”

“Fine,” she started, trying her best to not appear as frustrated as she was. It wasn’t his goddamn business why she was taking engineering classes. Her life wasn’t something he could just poke around in as he pleased. Clarke didn’t even know that much about him, but he seemed just fine asking her about the one thing she wouldn’t even talk to her parents about.

Fine. Just fucking _fine_.

“Maybe I don’t want to be a doctor, okay?” she spat.

Bellamy shrugged. “Great, then don’t be doctor.” Of course he would go and simplify shit like that, as if it was that easy.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Let me guess--your dad really wants you to follow in his footsteps, so instead of making yourself happy, you’re going to dedicate your entire working life to pleasing him.” He raised his eyebrows and Clarke frowned, avoiding eye contact.

“ _No._ Not exactly.” Was it really that obvious, or was he just a good guesser? Maybe her dad had mentioned it to him, somehow. No, that didn’t make sense, he was just a cocky lucky asshole spouting words like he knew what he was talking about.

“Fine, your mom then. Your grandpa, your aunt. Someone in your family wants you to be a doctor so badly that you are willing to sign up for ten plus years of school and training to do something you apparently aren’t even interested in doing as your career.”

“It’s none of your business,” His words stung, because she knew they were true. It was important to Clarke to graduate as soon as possible, but at the same time she was wasting her credits and time taking engineering classes that were more work than they were worth--slowly, as to not cause suspicion from her parents. She knew the requirements for a degree in electrical engineering, and for some reason she had already started filling them out. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the idea of practicing medicine; part of her did. But it felt like that decision had been made for her the first time she expressed an interest in middle school, and a big part of that interest was the pride she saw in her mother’s face. Maybe she would choose to be a doctor after all, after considering her other possibilities, but the more she experienced in IT the less likely that became.

Her mom would be so disappointed. She would think it was her pushing Clarke away from medical school, and assume her dad was working at her to become an engineer. That wasn’t a fight her parents needed to have, and it wasn’t a discussion Clarke needed to bring up until she was absolutely sure what her future held.

It was too complicated and personal of an issue to explain here and now. It was something Bellamy didn’t deserve to have explained in the first place. Instead, she deflected. “Why do you even care?”

Bellamy sighed. “I don’t. Do what you want, Princess. It’s just a little infuriating to learn that the student I am tasked with personally grooming for greatness--” He cut himself and threw his hands up. “Whatever, fuck it. Are we done now?”

“Yes.” The small confidence gained by treating his wounds was all but shattered. Clarke hated the contempt in his voice. It was clear that he did care, even though he denied it, but it didn’t even make sense for that to be the case. This was just a job. Bellamy would be paid either way; Clarke’s greater academic career was completely irrelevant.

When they got back to the table, Clarke realized that she had left her phone there--not the smartest choice--and she had numerous messages. Bellamy ignored her as she clicked through them, still getting his things in order.

_**where r u?** _

_**found ur table** _

_**been here 10 min. did u die??** _

_**clarke. text me back.** _

_**wth freaking out where r u** _

_**BITCH TEXT ME** _

_**of course u left ur phone** _

The texts ended there, and Clarke felt somewhat guilty. It was kind of ridiculous for Michelle to insist on being there in the first place, but Clarke didn’t want her to think she had been ditched.

**Sorry. Was in the bathroom.**

_**...20 min is a long time. u ok? shittastic?** _

**I was helping Bellamy.**

_**gross.** _

Clarke rolled her eyes, glancing at Bellamy, who was already hard at work grading something. His indifference to her blatant phone use made her anxious; she needed to get to work. This wasn’t break time, it was a paid tutor session.

**Nothing like that. He crashed his bike. Needed first aid.**

_**hmmm “first aid” ;)** _

**Yep. Need to go.**

_**brt** _

Clarke sighed and put her phone away, pushing all other thoughts out of her mind. She had been slacking too much, and this was serious business. A moment passed as she waited expectantly, but Bellamy didn’t say anything.

“Do you have another test for me?” she asked when the silence became awkward. He pushed a packet toward her without looking up. God, she just couldn’t keep up with his stupid moods. Glaring at him, she flipped to the first page. “Are you going to time me?” He held up his phone, already in the stopwatch application. Before she could say anything else, he started it.

_Okay, then._

_Jerk._

Studying had paid off, because she finished the final problem before Bellamy stopped her. It seemed too good to be true; she turned the packet over in her hands, looking for another problem or the catch of a double-sided page. Nothing.

“Is that it?” she asked, and Bellamy looked up for the first time since she started.

“You’re done?” Clarke nodded. “Nice job, Princess.” He smiled, and she wanted to punch him. That made her think of Michelle, and she looked around the stacks to find her sitting at the other end of the library, paging through a large book. She had come after all. It was so ridiculous, that she felt the need to protect her now.

After taking the test from her and paging through with that damn red pen, he seemed more cheerful somehow. He was ridiculous too. Everyone was ridiculous. It was aggravating.

“Much better, Princess,” he said when he was done. Clarke looked at the grade immediately and smiled despite her annoyance. The red ink looked so much less lethal when it said ‘81%’ instead of her much worse grades from before. “Now that we’re done with that,” he pushed aside his other work and crossed his arms on the table, more attentive now than he had been for the last few hours, “what exactly is this text about?”

“What?” Clarke grabbed his phone when he held it out to her, anxiety rushing over her as she tried to recall all the recent texts she had sent that could have accidentally ended up in his inbox. Nothing incriminating came to mind, but she held her breath anyway, skimming the message. There was a text from her number, but she definitely wasn’t the one who sent it.

_**where r u & what have u done w/ clarke??** _

Yeah, definitely not from her. The timestamp was during their short time in the bathroom, and Michelle’s apparent anxiety over her disappearance. Clarke made a note to tell Michelle to never under any circumstances do that again.

“Beautiful grammar, Princess. Love the third person.” He smirked. Maybe finding that was what had brightened his mood.

“That wasn’t me.” _Obviously._ She pushed the phone back to him, not sharing his clear amusement. “It was my roommate, Michelle. She was worried about me.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “Does she think I’m going to hurt you?”

Clarke shook her head. “No, it’s not about you. She got into a fight for me last night, and now she thinks if she isn’t around to defend me again that I’ll get beat up or something.” She nodded over to Michelle and Bellamy glanced at her, clearly amused. It _was_ funny, in a stupid sort of way.

It did make her feel loved, though; someone wanting to look out for her like that.

“Who would want to fight you, Princess?” He laughed. When she looked at him pointedly it dawned on him. “Oh. Raven found you.” The smirk that had almost seemed permanent immediately turned into a frown. “Don’t take it personally, Princess.”

Clarke laughed darkly, crossing her arms. “It’s kind of hard not to, honestly.”

“You wouldn’t feel that way if you knew the whole story.”

“Okay, enlighten me.”

Bellamy sighed and leaned back in his chair, avoiding eye contact again. “It’s not my place, Princess.” Even so, he spoke again after a long pause. “Let’s just say they have had a very long relationship, and this has happened many, many times. Let’s say Finn convinced Raven that it would never happen again when she was ready to leave him. Say Finn never actually stopped, and now because of you Raven knows that.”

“Except it isn’t my fault. It’s not like I knew he was a two-timing jerkwad.”

Bellamy smiled slightly at that. Whenever Clarke insulted Finn, it seemed to amuse him. It might be beneficial to make a habit of it, especially when he got grumpy. “Maybe you should tell her then. You’re still the catalyst, Princess. Now she gets to make that happy decision of whether to give that two-timing jerkwad another chance.” He started shuffling his papers around. Apparently they were done. Clarke packed her own things up. “It might be a good idea to let her know your side before she makes that decision.”

“It’s not my problem,” she said finally, and moved to stand up.

“Princess, before you go…” She hovered above the chair, then sat back down. “I think I might have hurt something that’s not my head.” He gestured the the entire left side of his torso. “Would you mind taking a look, since you’re here?”

He should have just asked when they were still in the bathroom, but she agreed anyway. This time he actually requested help up the stairs, which kind of worried her. Thank god she had believed him, or she would feel horrible if it lead to a more serious injury.

When they got to the bathroom he immediately took his shirt off, which made Clarke balk.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re not going to get anywhere if you can’t inspect my injuries, Princess. And you call yourself a future doctor.” He smirked at her and she scoffed, unable to look at him directly. “Princess,” he said after a moment of standing there, exposed. “It’s fine if it’s too much to ask.”

“No,” she said, pulling her eyes up.

_Great._

It was impossible to deny how attractive he was. Bellamy clearly took care of himself, judging by his well-defined muscles and complete lack of fat pockets that donned most of the college students, who indulged in alcohol and junk food. His abdominals and pectorals were especially impressive, rippling and clenching as he attempted to breath normally, but what held her attention was a huge scar across his stomach.

“Some other time, Princess,” he said, and Clarke felt heat fill her face, having been caught staring. Without hesitation he raised his left arm and exposed a huge purple bruise along his ribs, wrapping around across his back.

_Ouch._

"How were you just sitting there that whole time?!" If nothing else his ribs were horribly bruised, which made something as simple as breathing painful. Clarke would never have guessed he was so hurt, the way he had sat there, taking his time looking over her work. He was insane.

"I was doing my job," he shrugged, then winced.

Clarke reached out gently and noticed him tense; it was easy to see with his shirt off. “I need to make sure they aren’t broken,” she said, and he clenched his jaw as she felt around as gently as she could, making sure all the ribs were in place. “Well why didn’t you say anything sooner?” She asked, trying to distract him. He looked to be in considerable pain, even though he was doing his best not to show it.

“Didn’t notice,” he said shortly, closing his eyes tightly when she felt along the bottom rib. "Just started hurting."

“Well, I don’t think they are broken.” She stepped back, doing her best not to wince at the sight of that enormous bruise. “It’s probably a bruise or a fracture. You need to take some painkillers and ice it tonight. If your discomfort gets significantly worse go to the student clinic.”

Bellamy reached for his shirt and slowly pulled it back on, covering up his beautiful six pack. “Thanks, Dr. Princess.”

“I am not going by that.”

“But you would make so many little girls happy,” he said with a grin, followed by a slight wince. His visible pain made Clarke hurt. Enough talking, he needed to get home and rest with some frozen peas.

When they got back Michelle was waiting, foot tapping, and Bellamy grabbed his helmet without acknowledging her.

“Wait, you aren’t riding your bike back,” Clarke said.

“How do you suggest I get home then, Princess? I’m not walking my bike five miles.”

“Get someone to drive you,” she suggested, and Michelle raised an eyebrow, holding her tongue with clear difficulty.

“Are you offering, Princess?”

Clarke frowned. “I don’t have a car.”

“He’ll be fine, Clarke,” said Michelle. It was obvious she wanted to leave, and Clarke resisted reminding her that she hadn’t needed to come in the first place, no matter how nice the gesture was.

“Listen to your friend, Princess,” said Bellamy, picking up his bag and putting on his helmet. His face was a little bruised now too, but he didn’t seem to notice the band pressing against it. Clarke didn’t look convinced. He sighed. “I survived the way here, I’ll survive the way back… But since you’re so very concerned, I’ll text you when I get home.”

Clarke pursed her lips, embarrassed at her unnecessary worry, but nodded.

“Okay. See you later, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy balls this chapter took forever to finish. Writer's block sucks. Sorry for the delay, but for some reason it was just impossible (even though I had a clear outline of this chapter before I started, what the hell).
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and love, you are all fantastic!
> 
> I don't want to make a habit of waiting a week between chapters. Hopefully the next one will be up in a few days.
> 
> <3


	15. Bruised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy goes home broken and bruised, and tries to deal with his new slight handicap.

Bellamy huffed in relief when he made it through his front door, throwing his helmet, bag, and keys on the table. Thankfully he hadn’t fallen again, but the strain of the deep breathing that came with exercise was excruciating. Before digging around in his freezer he removed his shirt, groaning at the darker shade of purple that stretched across his skin. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced such an injury, but it was just as unpleasant as he remembered.

Last time that wasn’t the only injury though. At least it had kept him distracted.

“Painkillers…” he muttered to himself, opening all of his small upper cabinets; he rarely used them and couldn’t remember which one he had put aside for medicine. He poured himself a small glass of water and popped a few ibuprofen, then found a large bag of peas in his freezer and settled down into his couch.

**I made it back alive, Princess. You can stop worrying now.**

He set down his phone on the arm of the couch, certain she would text back soon. The peas were already stinging with cold, so he reached for his discarded shirt to protect his skin. Much better.

Before he could lean back his phone dinged.

_**I wasn’t worried.** _

**Don’t lie, Princess.**

His fingers hovered for a moment, tempted to add “It doesn’t look good on you”, but pressed send before he could convince himself it was appropriate because it wasn’t. In no world did she need to care what Bellamy thought looked good on her. In a good, fair world she would never find out. The thought left him feeling bitter.

_**I’m not, but I’m glad you didn’t die.** _

Bellamy couldn’t help but smile at that. **What a statement.**

_**You should have it framed.** _

He laughed, and that hurt. Wincing, he typed with one thumb and used his other hand to adjust the peas, wishing for multiple bags. **Maybe I will.**

_**Good. It’s an honor that I want you to live.** _

**You just want me for my brain.**

When it took more than a moment for her to respond he groaned. _Too far, Bellamy._ He kept wanting to push the envelope, and with his pain-altered state of mind there was nothing to prevent him from doing so. Of course she wanted him for his mind. If she didn’t, that would mean she wanted him for… something else. _Inappropriate, Bellamy._

_**Who else will make sure I pass Calculus?** _

_Thank god._

**You would be fine, Princess.**

Another long moment passed, and Bellamy put his phone aside, assuming they were done. It dinged again, and he wished he had just held onto it. _Ow._ He read the text through squinted, bleary eyes.

_**I’m not responding anymore because you need to rest.** _

It was adorable, how she decided to explain herself instead of just doing it. Bellamy sighed at himself yet again; he wasn’t supposed to find any of the students adorable. Relationships between faculty and students was strictly prohibited, and that included TAs. He needed this job. It was better to choke the flame now before it started to spread.

Then again, with Octavia leaving he wouldn’t need the extra money he had been setting aside from her since returning to the country.

_You are not seriously considering that._ He looked down at his crotch and shook his head. _Pathetic._

He needed a distraction. He needed to blow off some steam to clear his head.

He needed to get laid.

It had been too long; longer than he could even remember properly. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity; girls were constantly throwing themselves all over him at parties and in class. When college girls were still shiny and new Bellamy had taken full advantage of his appeal to them, but that had died down quickly. The girls he kept meeting were all the same, and the ones that interested him weren’t offering. If they ever were, the commitment was too much. He had more important things to worry about now.

The past few semesters bled together, but his last conquest had been at least before that summer. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember her name or even completely recall her face, just that she was too pretty, too drunk, and too dumb. A moment of weakness; he tried to avoid drunk girls but when they caught him on the wrong day his dick would happily take oblige.

Maybe another one night stand would do him good.

Maybe if he wasn’t newly broken that would actually be an option.

Bellamy looked to his phone, wishing that Clarke would text him again; a distraction would be lovely. Sitting there with frozen vegetables doing nothing was kind of depressing. The last thing he wanted to do right now was sleep. The sun was still up, and he hated wasting daylight. Even so, he heard Clarke’s voice in his head telling him to rest, so he laid down across the couch, holding the peas against his ribs with his arm.

He told himself he would never be able to fall asleep, but when he opened his eyes it was dark outside and his phone was ringing loudly. Disoriented, he sat up too fast and groaned, having momentarily forgotten his injury. The bag of thawed, wet peas fell to the ground as he grabbed his phone and pulled it to his face without checking who the caller was.

“What?” he asked, pushing his palm against his temple in an attempt to stop the ache behind his eyes.

_“Hello to you too, big brother. Did I interrupt something?”_

Her voice over the phone made him anxious, since it was so rare now. It had to mean something bad. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He moved to stand up, but immediately regretted it and leaned back into the couch. God, this was infuriating. Stupid rain. Stupid bike. Stupid body.

_“Calm down, I’m fine.”_ He exhaled loudly in relief. _“You wanted me to visit you, right? I can come the second week in December and stay through the end of the month.”_

“Okay,” his mind was too groggy to think about his schedule for nearly a month out. “I will have finals sometime during that.”

_“I know, you don’t have to stop your life for me. I can entertain myself when I need to, you just can’t be boring the whole time.”_ She sighed. _“Which might be too much to ask.”_

“No, I can manage. I’ll bring you to frat parties; you’ll love it.”

_“I’ll hold you to that.”_

“What day are you coming?”

_“I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I do.”_

“Okay.”

_“I have to go. See you later, big brother.”_

“Bye, O.”

He hung up the phone and laid back again, in the same situation he was before falling asleep. Now it was dark and he had every reason to go to bed, but the long nap left him feeling too awake for that. With class tomorrow, he decided to refresh his bag of frozen vegetables and set up his grading station at the couch instead of his desk for more comfort. An hour into his stack of papers, and he was already done. Normally when he got free time like this he would do exercise at the gym or with free weight in his apartment, but that was completely out of the question now.

Instead, he picked up his phone without thinking.

**How long is this going to last?**

A moment later he got the response, and that made him smile. Clarke didn’t seem the type to have her phone on hand at all times, or to text back. Maybe he was wrong--he probably was--but it felt good anyway.

**_You should be resting._ **

**I was, Princess. I woke up.**

_**3-6 weeks. Maybe less if you listen to me.** _

**Fuck.** He frowned, thinking of three weeks without physical exertion of any kind and needing to carry painkillers with him everywhere. It sounded awful.

_**Be glad it wasn’t a break.** _

**What am I supposed to do for 3 weeks?**

_**3-6 weeks. Whatever you normally do, minus the physical activity.** _

**I’m going to get fat.** He sighed at himself after sending it. So much for keeping texts and phone calls professional and only about tutoring and important related subjects.

_**Maybe that would make you nicer. :)** _

He laughed. **Not likely, Princess.**

When she didn’t respond right away he felt guilty. It was stupid of him to keep doing this; it would only end badly. He needed to enact his unbreakable self-control. Unfortunately, it was only unbreakable if he actually wanted it to be.

**We can do the last practice test on Tuesday afternoon or evening.**

_**Okay. I get done with class at 3:00.** _

**Come to the library right after. I’ll be there all afternoon.**

_**You should take tomorrow off.** _

Bellamy sighed, not liking that suggestion. He didn’t believe in taking days off unless he was a real hindrance or danger to the other students. Broken ribs weren’t contagious.

**No thanks, Princess.**

_**I’m serious. Take it easy for a day or two.** _

He was about to shoot the advice down again, but got a second text before he could.

_**If you overexert yourself it will take longer to heal. Call in tomorrow. Doctor’s orders.** _

**Fine.** Bellamy hadn’t decided if he actually would, but at least if he agreed she would drop it. Maybe it would be a good idea, but the last thing he wanted to do all day was sit alone in his apartment without anything productive to do. Television could only fill the void for so long, and he had a set limit on the amount of sleep his body could stand in a day.

Even so, a day off could be good for him. Not just physically, but mentally. He always worked too hard, and ever since graduating high school he sometimes thought he had forgotten how to relax. There were plenty of books he had been meaning to read that he could get a good start on, and there was always extra work to do for his own classes. This injury could be a blessing in disguise.

A horrible, painful, infuriating blessing.

**Good night, Princess.** Bellamy pressed send, wanting to actually end the conversation instead of letting it drift off like so many did. Also, it suggested that he was taking her advice and that was certain to please her. Maybe. She probably didn’t really care.

**_Good night._ **

He replaced his bag of peas for a third time, popped a few more pain killers, and crawled into his bed after brushing his teeth. It was difficult to find a comfortable position, but apparently his body was still exhausted because he fell asleep all the same. As he drifted off his mind filled with images of blood spattered bandages, raining gunfire, and a pretty blonde doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Busy.
> 
> No time to write. :(
> 
> Seriously, I have been super swamped and it has been really hard to find even the shortest amount of time to write, and on top of that it seems like whenever I can actually sit down and do it I get writer's block. Lame. Next week will be busy too, but my workload should lighten up after that and hopefully I can get more than one chapter out a week.
> 
> Enjoy the Bellamy-ness of this chapter.
> 
> I caught up on the most recent episodes and could not stop commenting on how hot Bellamy looked every time he was on the damn screen it annoyed the hell out of my boyfriend. UNF.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who continues to read even though the updates have slowed so significantly. I haven't forgotten about you! There is so much left to write for this (and I have no plans of stopping until it is done) I just need to get it all down! I love you all. Thank you, thank you. <3


	16. Bored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is bored resting, and Clarke has a shit day.

Bellamy woke up in a cold sweat, grateful that he had sent out the half dozen emails before falling asleep. It was much later than he usually slept, and he was immediately disoriented upon sitting up, his ribs still aching. Last night had been rough on him, which was clear from the sweat-dampened sheets that were loosened from his tossing and turning. Bits and pieces of his dreams came back to him, but he pushed them away. He didn’t need to think about that now.

That was all in the past.

He was safe here.

It was too much effort to pull a shirt over his head when he didn’t need to look presentable anyway, so he threw on a pair of sweatpants and shuffled to the kitchen. He had neglected to go grocery shopping that weekend, so instead of scouring the refrigerator he looked through his small collection of menus and decided on pizza. That way he didn’t have to go anywhere, and he could have food for a few days.

Clarke would be so proud at his cooperative immobility.

Of course that also meant he would have a few days of junk food without being able to counteract the damage with vigorous exercise like he usually did. After ordering a large supreme pizza he called up Miller to remedy that. If he couldn’t go to the gym, then he would have to bring the gym to him.

The voice that cracked through the phone sounded groggy and almost pained. _“What do you want?”_

“Do you have any hand weights?”

There was a long pause, then a groan. _“What the fuck, Bellamy?”_

“I cracked my ribs but I need to do something.” He heard a loud sigh and some rustling.

_“How did you crack your ribs?”_

“Crashed my bike, hit a car, not a big deal.”

_“I don’t have anything here. Call Adam. He’s a big enough tool to have that crap laying around. Can I go back to bed now?”_

“Only if you want to be a lazy piece of shit.” He grinned when Miller scoffed. “Thanks,man.”

_“Sure thing, dickwad.”_

Bellamy considered texting Adam instead of calling, except the guys never responded when he did that. Unfortunately that meant frequently waking them up and interrupting certain adult activities that made it awkward for everyone involved. He dialed cautiously and waited, almost hoping for voicemail.

_“Hey… Bellamy…”_ said Adam quietly. His voice was so breathy that Bellamy could hardly make out the words.

“Is this a bad time?”

_“Yes. What’s up?”_ Bellamy heard some rustling and familiar squeaks of Adam’s horrid bed that was so loud it let everyone in the house know exactly when he was getting laid. All the guys told him to replace it, but the negative attention only made him like it more.

“Do you have hand weights I can borrow?”

_“Yeah, but why don’t you just go to the gym?”_

“I’m on house arrest. I cracked my ribs and have to rest.”

_“Well why the hell would I give you my weights then?”_

Bellamy sighed. “Come on, I need to do something.”

_“Right, you’ve got your weird training mentality shit.”_ He let out a long, dramatic sigh. _“Okay, but this never happened. I don’t want to be responsible when you hurt yourself.”_

“You’re a life saver. When are you coming by?”

_“Oh, I have to bring them to **you** now?”_

“House arrest, remember?”

_“Give me a few hours. I have a beautiful little sexpot with serious daddy issues next to me and she might blow me again if I play my cards-- **Shit.** ”_

Bellamy laughed. “Rookie mistake, Adam.”

He heard the phone fall, followed by loud crashes and a female yelling. _“I’ll see you soon!”_ Adam shouted from a distance, followed by a loud _“OW!”_ Bellamy listened for a few more seconds, in case he needed to call someone to help, but hung up after hearing a door slam.

Part of why it was easier to not hook up with random girls.

 

Waiting was so boring.

Bellamy sat on the couch and flipped through the channels on his television. Even though he had cable, the only reason he paid for it was because internet was cheaper in the bundle. It didn’t make any sense, and every time he tried to actually use it he ended up frustrated and bored. Some catty women were arguing over something insignificant when his doorbell rang.

Without thinking, he went to the door and opened it to find a short delivery girl holding his box of pizza. She looked him over and flushed before he realized he was shirtless. “Oh god, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, attempting in vain to shift into a position that didn’t expose his bare torso. They were never girls; why did it have to be a girl this time? Guys didn't care about that shit. He gave her the money and she went into her pack to make change. “No, keep it,” he said in a haste, nearly slamming the door on her.

“It’s really not the worst I’ve seen,” she said with a smirk. That didn’t make him feel any better. “Have a nice day.”

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything back before closing the door. No witty comeback or invitation; no subtle flirting. Years ago he could pull out a slick one-liner without a second thought, charming the pants off of anyone unfortunate enough to catch his eye. Bellamy was out of practice. He no longer relished in being caught with his pants down--or shirt off.

When he heard another knock on his door he had put the rest of the pizza away, cleaned up the small mess in his kitchen, and was curled up on the couch reading a random free book on his Kindle, mindless television playing in the background. Technology was a beautiful thing.

“Come in!” he yelled, knowing it would be Adam.

“What if I was a serial killer?” he asked when he walked in, a large crate in his arms.

“Then an unlocked door would not do much to hinder you.”

“Fair enough. Where do you want these?”

Bellamy looked up and gestured by the television. “Over there is fine.”

“Yes, master.” Adam rolled his eyes and placed the crate full of various hand weights down, then saw Bellamy’s bruise for the first time. His eyes were as wide as saucers. “Holy shit dude, what happened?”

“I told you, I cracked my ribs.”

“Literally half your body is purple.”

“I crashed my bike.”

“Into a brick wall?”

“Into a car.” He sighed, not proud of it. “It was dark and raining. I should have sucked it up and driven there instead.”

“Well why the hell didn’t you?” He shook his head and laughed. “When people bike around here it’s because they don’t have cars at their disposal. You’re an idiot.”

“I didn’t have gas at my disposal,” he shot back. “Plus the exercise is good for me.”

“You exercise more than anyone else I know, Blake. I think you’ll be fine.”

“Not for three to six weeks,” he sighed, tossing his Kindle aside.

“That’s rough.” Adam sat down on the couch next to Bellamy’s feet. “If it were me I’d take the break. It’s an excuse to stop worrying about all that working out and relax a little.” Bellamy frowned, avoiding eye contact, and saw Adam throw up his hands in his peripheral vision. “Sorry, I know it’s not that simple.”

“Yeah.” His jaw clenched until it was painful. “That’s not really an option.”

“They really made a perfect soldier out of you, huh?”

Bellamy snapped his neck to stare at him, muscles tense, but forced himself to relax. If only self-discipline and physical strength were all it took to be a perfect soldier... Bellamy knew better. He’d seen numerous men that fit that bill buried before their time. With a little less luck, he would have been one of them. “Yeah, one they can’t use.”

“Right. Sorry, man.” He clapped Bellamy on the leg and stood up. “I have class. Enjoy the weights. Just drop them off when you’re healed up.” Bellamy nodded and  pulled himself to the edge of the couch cushions, leaning over to pull the crate toward him. It hurt, but it didn’t last long. A wave of relief washed over him when he picked up one of the weights. The heaviest was only twenty pounds, but he could get the burn he needed if he did this all day. He leaned back and started curling, the mindless shows on the television suddenly much more interesting now that he was able to breathe.

 

Clarke slammed the door behind her with a groan, dropping her pile of books and loose papers on the floor. Michelle looked over the side of her bed with a quizzical expression, sucking on a popsicle. She eyed it with both annoyance and envy. Last she checked they didn’t have frozen treats, but it sounded amazing. Clarke opened the mini fridge hopefully and grabbed one for herself, letting the cool sweetness calm her down.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Michelle asked after a long slurp. “And why were you carrying everything? Doesn’t seem very efficient.”

Clarke sighed and held up her empty backpack, turning it so Michelle could see the large rip along the bottom.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. It’s been one of those days. Fucking fantastic.”

“You’re just grumpy because you didn’t have eye candy to look at today.”

Clarke glared at her, and Michelle just chuckled. “Why do I tell you anything?”

“Because I’m just so entertaining.” She laid back down so Clarke could only see her wagging foot propped up on her knee.

Homework sounded incredibly unappealing, but she opened her Calculus textbook on her lap anyway. After the tutor sessions and today’s review lecture she was quite confident about the exam in two days, but she still had a few problems of her homework left to do and practice could never hurt. When her brain started to lull from the reading she pulled out her phone.

**How’s your day off?**

_**Boring.** _

**Sorry.**

_**Not your fault, Princess.** _

**It kind of is.**

_**You have a point. Apology accepted.** _

She smiled and Michelle peered over the side of her bed as Clarke typed fractically.

**You should probably take tomorrow off too. I’ll do fine on the midterm without it.**

_**No way in hell.** _

**Doctor’s orders.**

_**You don’t get to pull that again.** _

“Who are you talking to?” asked Michelle. Clarke snapped out of the conversation and forced her grin into a frown with some difficulty. Michelle smirked with a knowing expression. “Nevermind, I figured it out.”

**Fine you can work but at least skip our session.**

_**I’m not neglecting my job because of a stupid injury.** _

Clarke sighed, not knowing what to say. Another text came in before she could pull a convincing argument together.

_**If you want to cancel for your own reasons, fine, but I’m not doing that on my account.** _

**Fine.**

_**I’ll see you tomorrow.** _

**Yep.**

_**Come prepared.** _

Clarke scoffed and didn’t respond to that, as if it needed to be said at this point. Of course she would be prepared, that’s what she was doing now. That's what she did every day now. She would get there tomorrow and get an A on that damn practice exam just to show him how prepared she was.

When she looked up Michelle was staring again. “What?” she snapped, pocketing her phone. Michelle shrugged.

“You always get so emotional when you talk to him. You’re happy, then angry, then annoyed, then happy again.” She laughed and made a face. “It’s so _adorable_.”

Clarke looked around for a pillow to chuck, but there weren’t any. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yes, but you love me.” She sighed and fell backward, looking at the calendar that hung high on her wall where she could always reach it. “Can you believe it’s almost Thanksgiving? It is always weird to go back home.”

Clarke shrugged. “I’m not going back home this year.”

“What? Why not?”

“My mom will be out of town for some retreat or convention or something so my dad is coming up here instead.”

Michelle sat up. “So you mean I’m missing my opportunity to meet Mr. Griffin in the flesh?” She looked horribly disappointed. “I’m so sad. I bet he’s super hot. DILF.”

Clarke made a face. “Ew, Michelle, that’s my dad.”

“Exactly, so you can never admit it, but deep down you know it to be true.”

“Gross.”

“ _DILF_ ,” she whispered.

“We’re dropping this.”

“Suit yourself, but send him my love.”

Clarke sighed. “We have a few weeks. You can make him a card or something.”

Michelle brightened up. “That is a fantastic idea.”

She was so ridiculous. Clarke shook her head when Michelle grabbed a piece of paper, starting on an idea for a card. She knew it was just a funny bit, but Clarke wouldn’t put it past her to actually come up with something. Thinking about Thanksgiving, though, made her think about the fact that her dad would request to meet the tutor who had been helping her get through Calculus on his dime. She hoped Bellamy would be gone. That would make avoiding the awkward situation so much easier.

Unable to focus on anything else, she pulled out her phone again.

**Will you be around over Thanksgiving?**

The response came too slowly.

_**Why do you ask?** _

**Scheduling.** Such an obvious lie. She bit her lip, waiting for the answer with dread in her heart.

_**Yes.** _

 

_ Fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know "Adam" is actually "Atom" in the show, but I'm not calling him that in this AU because that is too weird. He would get shit for it in this reality and would call himself Adam anyway to avoid it.
> 
> I am so sorry that this took so long. I was in a serious writing funk but I think I'm over it now, and I'm looking forward to the next few chapters. This is like a weird transitioning/introduction to new little plotline/weird bored Bellamy/play with new characters chapter. Hopefully you guys enjoyed it enough. I know it sucks waiting, but I love you all and want to keep producing stuff you actually want to read so I have to take more time than I wish I had to. :(
> 
> Random note about the show: Holy shit how good is it right now though seriously?!?! Those last few episodes had me so stressed out, and Bob Morley is doing such a fantastic job as Bellamy I can't even. So wonderful. So much love. My heart can't take all the anxiety. Thank god the show came back because it keeps me inspired. <3
> 
> I can't wait for the next few chapters, I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I'm looking forward to writing them. I will try to make it worth the wait! I know it's hard following slow fics! As always, I love the comments, even though I've been slacking at responding to them. <3


	17. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke gets lunch with Michelle and runs into Bellamy before her tutor session. Also, the tutor session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG GUYS it's finally back.

Clarke woke up to find her Tuesday class cancelled for some reason unexplained by her professor, meaning it was probably personal. It was a nice surprise and she was tempted to go back to bed, but decided to study up on Calculus before her tutor session instead. Not that she really needed it at this point; sleepily reading up on her notes wasn’t going to make much of a difference a day before the exam, but it was better than sitting around or getting distracted by her computer all morning.

Michelle came back after her morning class, completely unphased to see Clarke still there. “Hooky?” she asked, and Clarke furrowed her eyebrows, not registering the question at first, then insulted that Michelle would even ask that. What happened to her label of 'perfect student'?

“No,” she answered, shaking her head with a frown. “My professor cancelled.”

“Awesome. Want to see a movie or go to the gym?” She sat next to Clarke on the futon, and it was kind of weird to see her sitting there instead of on her bed. Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she had actually used any of their other furniture; not that there was much of it.

“I can’t. Tutor session in two hours.” Two hours seemed like a long time, but it wasn’t enough for a movie or the tedious process of getting dressed, running to the gym, working out, running back, and showering. She would need to leave at least fifteen minutes before her session to avoid the wrath of Bellamy anyway.

“Fine, but at least have lunch with me.”

Clarke looked at the clock on their microwave and sighed, making Michelle pout.

“ _Come on_ Clarke, it’s the freaking dining hall. It isn’t even going to take an hour.”

Michelle spoke the truth, and not two minutes ago Clarke was telling herself how studying like these was useless anyway; she was being ridiculous. Everyone had to eat. “Okay,” she agreed, ignoring the obvious satisfaction on Michelle’s face.

When they arrived Clarke’s heart fell. There had been a small fire in the kitchens according to a sign at the front of the hall; nobody was hurt, apparently, but the dining hall was closed temporarily while the unfortunate employees cleaned up the mess and took care of maintenance to avoid future issues. She turned to Michelle, who had a sheepish grin on her face.

Clarke eyed her suspiciously. “Did you know about this?”

Michelle feigned shock. “Of course not! I am insulted.”

“Because it would be pathetic if you started a fire just to get me to go to a restaurant with you.” She stared with slitted eyes as Michelle cackled.

“I guess I’m just lucky.”

“Mhmm…” said Clarke. “I will go somewhere with you if it’s within half a mile of here and is quick. No legit sit-down restaurants; I want to be in and out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Michelle, rolling her eyes. “I must be such a chore for you.”

“Maybe a pleasant chore, like folding laundry.” They started walking, even though Clarke didn’t know where they were going. She would trust Michelle to lead them somewhere that fit her criteria, and if it didn’t she had no problem turning around and walking back alone. Thankfully she had remembered her wallet, because she didn’t want to waste any time going back to the room.

Michelle made a face. “You _like_ folding laundry? What is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t say I _enjoy_  it, but it’s one of the better chores, right? The clothes are all warm and soft and smell nice… You can’t tell me cleaning the toilet is better, or doing dishes.”

“I don’t hate doing the dishes.”

“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes and Michelle gave her a sideways glance.

“Not sure if you’re being sexist or...”

“We are literally having a conversation about household cleaning, so I don’t really think it matters.”

“Touche.”

After walking a few minutes they made it to the closest block of restaurants and chains, and Michelle immediately chose the bagel shop. Clarke was grateful for that; in comparison to the other choices that was definitely the fastest, and she could also get some coffee for brain stimulation. Having a place to sit and eat was also ideal, though looking around the crowded room that could prove difficult.

They placed their orders, which were both bagel sandwiches with a side salad, and by the time Clarke was done filling her coffee cup their number was called. Fast food was glorious. Michelle found them a seat by a window that had just freed up and they settled in with their food. Even though she tried her best to avoid going out with Michelle for no reason in particular, it was nice to get a break from her routine sometimes. Changing things up was good, despite consistency being her first instinct. Sometimes her instincts were shit; she had yet to trust Michelle and _not_ have a good time.

Clarke didn’t notice Bellamy come in or even order his food; she noticed his curly head of hair when he was waiting by the counter. Michelle noticed her staring and looked around, then grinned when her eyes found him. “What a crazy coincidence,” she mused.

“Something like that,” Clarke mumbled, avoiding eye contact when he looked around for a place to sit. Nothing was free, so he turned to leave, but Michelle waved at him.

“Bellamy!” she called, and his head turned immediately. “Sit with us.”

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Clarke hissed through a fake smile as he walked over slowly, hesitantly. “He was about to leave.”

“Only because there was nowhere to sit. You know he saw you, Clarke. Don’t be rude.” Her scolding gaze made Clarke sigh; she was right, of course.

Bellamy reached the table and stood awkwardly for a moment before sitting down.

“Hey,” Clarke said quietly. It was weird yet again to see him outside of his role of TA. He wasn’t allowed to be a normal person, not around her.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you for another hour,” he said, unfolding his sandwich.

“That was going to be my line,” she answered as he took a bite. Michelle was eyeing his sandwich with some serious anger in her eyes and Clarke shot her a look.

“How do you go to a bagel shop and get a non-bagel sandwich?” she asked.

Bellamy laughed through his food but finished chewing before answering. “How do you invite someone over to your table and then judge his food choices?”

“Easily, when they are so upsetting.” Clarke kicked her under the table, but Michelle didn’t flinch.

“You get upset by some strange things, Michelle.”

That clearly caught her off guard. She was silent for nearly a minute, the gears visibly turning in her head. “How…?”

“You met in the library,” Clarke interrupted, looking at Bellamy. He appeared quite amused. “And I’ve mentioned you before.”

“Plus I am expected to be good at remembering names. It’s part of the job.” He shot a glance at Clarke and grinned at the indignant expression on her face.

“According to you, if I want you to know me I have to let you decide who I am or something.” She recalled slowly, certain that wasn't the exact quote. It was a long time ago, and all she really remembered was the anger in her gut and the smug look on his face. That look reappeared in front of her.

“What the hell does that mean?” asked Michelle, looking between them.

“It means he gave me a nickname.” She sighed heavily, not taking her eyes off of that infuriating sheepish grin.

“It fits you so well, Princess.”

The sides of Michelle’s mouth twitched at the word. “ _Princess?_ ” She turned to Clarke. “Isn’t that what Finn called you?”

At that, Bellamy's body immediately changed. Clarke didn't think anyone could have missed the instant shift in his energy, even though Michelle looked unphased. He leaned back and frowned, physically removing himself from the conversation. He didn’t respond at all when Clarke nodded, just stared at his food as he continued to eat.

It wasn’t until Raven came up that he joined the conversation again.

“What happened with Finn’s psycho girlfriend anyway?” asked Michelle when they had dried up all conversation about her favorite reality shows. Clearly it had been weighing on her mind, even though she hadn’t bothered to bring it up the first time Finn was mentioned. Maybe because of Bellamy’s strange reaction.

Clarke shrugged, but Bellamy spoke up. “You won’t be seeing her around here anymore,” he said, and the curious looks he was met with made him elaborate. “She goes to a different school. They broke up. She has no reason to come back.”

“Good, I don’t need to protect you anymore.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “You didn’t need to in the first place, and you kind of gave up on that after a couple of days.”

“Yeah, well, I do have a life.”

“Even so, I did appreciate the short stint.”

“It was completely unnecessary to do that, you know,” said Bellamy, crossing his arms. They were all done eating at this point, and he was starting to look anxious. Clarke didn’t know why he didn’t leave; he had been silent and frowning for the past ten minutes. If they were so upsetting to him he didn’t have to stay.

“My face would beg to differ,” said Michelle, pointing at her eye that was long past being black. Bellamy looked over her face, but his expression didn’t change.

“I don’t see anything.”

“That’s because I’m a freaking awesome makeup artist. Thank you for the compliment.”

Bellamy eyed her for a long moment, then turned to Clarke.

“I’m leaving. Are you ready?”

Clarke blinked at him. “Ready for what?”

“For our tutor session.”

“I don’t have my stuff…” She said slowly, looking to Michelle uncertainly, but she only shrugged. It was only a ten minute walk back, but she didn’t want to drag Bellamy there with her.

“You don’t need it.” Clarke frowned, then considered it. That was actually true; the exam tomorrow meant to homework to complete, and Bellamy always provided her with the packet of work and some extra pages in case she ran out of solving space. Calculators weren’t allowed on this exam either, so all she would need to borrow was a pencil.

Bellamy stood up and grabbed her trash from lunch and watched her expectantly. “We’re both here, we might as well go together.”

“O-okay,” she stammered, hating the sound of the chair squealing on the floor when she pushed it back. “I’ll see you later,” she directed to Michelle, who just waved. How supportive. If she cared, Michelle would have given her an excuse to not do this, because it was weird that Bellamy wanted to walk with her in the first place. She couldn’t help but feel he had some deeper purpose to the whole scenario, like it had been planned.

Maybe not, she decided as they walked and bounced between silence and shallow conversation: “It’s so nice today.” -- “Yeah, the sun is finally out.”

Bellamy’s mood seemed to improve a little with the small-talk, until Clarke noticed him tense again without warning. Sometimes she wished there was a little window to whatever internal struggle he seemed to be constantly fighting through. That would at least make it less infuriating when he got mad for no reason.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Finn?” he asked in a lower register than usual, if that was possible. Clarke almost stopped walking to properly think over the words.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said finally.

“What Michelle said when we were eating,” he added, slowing his stride.

Clarke thought back then rolled her eyes. “Seriously?” The sound surprised her; she had meant to keep that thought to herself. “You mean the whole _Princess_ thing?”

Bellamy pursed his lips, his eyes dark; that was all the answer she needed.

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. If anyone should be upset it’s me, for having to put up with that ridiculous name from two separate people. Finn just laughed at me when I told him to stop, and you can’t because apparently you didn’t even bother to learn my real name.”

Bellamy stopped walking completely, and Clarke almost tripped after grazing his shoulder. When she turned toward him and looked up his eyes were on fire. “I don’t like being associated with Finn in ways I’m not aware, _Clarke_.” He let the words sink in as the fire died down, then kept walking without her.

Clarke stood there for a long moment before finding her legs again, and ran to catch up. He did know her name then. Everything else had just been some game he was playing with her, and now Finn had ruined something else. She wasn’t heartbroken about her stupid nickname dying, but now Bellamy was grumpy again and she had to be with him like this for hours. _Thanks, Finn._

“You know, it’s not a big deal,” started Clarke, not even knowing why she was talking. Well, actually she did know; she hated when Bellamy got in a mood and this seemed like a grudge he would happily hold onto for whatever reason, probably related to a stupid code of masculinity that she could never understand. “I never associated ‘Princess’ with Finn anyway. That was already your thing by the time he started. If anything,” she sighed, wishing she had stopped talking at this point, “he was making me think about you when he said it.”

Bellamy tried to hide it, but Clarke could tell that those words cheered him right up.

 

The practice exam went quickly; almost too quickly, it felt. She had over ten minutes left when she finished, and now that Bellamy was grading it Clarke worried the speed had negatively affected her answers. His expression was blank, so she waited impatiently for him to finish, keeping track of all the marks she heard scribbled on the pages.

“Congratulations,” he said, handing her the graded exam.

Clarke smiled at the big **‘A’** written at the top of the packet, not even caring what the exact percentage was. It made her chest swell, and a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. What a relief. When she looked up a smile had crept onto Bellamy’s face as he watched her. She felt the sudden urge to hug him, for helping her get this far, and for some other reason she didn't entirely understand. But that would be inappropriate, and it would probably hurt him; she had almost forgotten about his injury until creating the scenario of an embrace with him in her head.

“What is it?” he asked. Clarke shook herself out of her thoughts, not aware that it had shown on her face. _Embarrassing._

“Can I see your bruise?”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “You just got back a near perfect practice exam, meaning you will probably ace the real exam tomorrow, and you’re worried about my bruise?”

“Something like that.”

“I’d rather not play doctor in the bathroom again.” He crossed his arms awkwardly, clearing trying to keep pressure off of one side.

“That’s fine, I just want to see it. With my eyes.”

“That’s typically how one sees.” He smirked at her.

“No touching necessary. No real examination needed.”

Bellamy considered for a moment. “Fine.” He started to pull up his shirt, but Clarke stopped him with a hand on his arm. “What?”

“ _We-are-in-the-middle-of-the-library,_ ” she hissed. “Do you have no shame?.” He smirked again, lowering the edge of his shirt he had been pulling up. The band of his underwear was peeking out above his jeans; it was distracting. She glanced around at the other tables and skimmed over the visible aisles of books. “Follow me.”

He obliged, slowly. Clarke led him through the stacks, finding the row furthest away from any of the patrons. Thankfully there weren’t too many at the moment. “Okay, show me.” He shot her a look, then raised his shirt to show his torso. The bruise was a much deeper purple, but that was a good sign. Nothing looked out of the ordinary from sight, and Clarke had promised no touching, so she just nodded after taking her sweet time looking him over. Bellamy dropped his shirt, watching her.

“I don’t know why we had to hide for that. You would have been done before anyone noticed.”

“It’s the _library_.”

Bellamy laughed. “You say that like it means something sacred. Do you know how many people have had sex between these stacks?”

Clarke wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

“Just avoid the sticky books.”

She made a sound in between a snort and disgust; startled by the amusing statement but revolted by the image it provoked. Of course her brain was imagining something but worse than reality; namely a naked man purposefully spraying his ejaculate all over a row of books. “Ugh. You’ve ruined the library for me.”

“Really? That’s all it takes? Be careful where you eat, shower, and sleep then.” He laughed at the horrified look on her face, and it sounded more sincere than usual. Apparently he was happy now; it was impossible to keep up with him.

“Why are you so chipper?” She started walking back to their table and he followed.

“Just remembering that it’s exam week for Kruglikov.” Clarke raised her eyebrows; most people hated exam week. “I don’t grade exams, so I only have to worry about my own classes.”

Clarke nodded. She knew Bellamy was the TA for most of Professor Kruglikov’s classes; apparently they were all on the same strange exam schedule. Sometimes it was nice not having all her exams during the same week, and sometimes it just meant selfish jerkwads ruining her much needed concentration because study hours were only enforced during official all-campus exam weeks.

“That must be a nice break.”

“I like to keep myself busy.”

“Fine, not a break then.”

Bellamy watched her after they sat down, much longer than usual. Clarke fought the burn in her cheeks, but as always that just made it worse. She hated prolonged staring, even though she was often guilty of it herself.

“After this exam you get to decide if you want to keep this tutoring thing going.”

The statement took her aback, though Clarke had started thinking about that possibility once she started gaining serious confidence in the class. A lot of that was thanks to Bellamy, though she hated to admit it. Part of her wanted to call this off and do it on her own to prove that she could, but at the same time she found herself looking forward to tutor sessions more and more. The thought of taking them away filled her with a sadness that she pushed down. _Not now._

“I’m surprised you’re letting me decide that.”

“Your dad paid me upfront for all sessions before the exam. Technically he gets to make the decision, since he’s the one with the money, but if you don’t want to continue I can’t imagine he would force you.”

Clarke laughed. “Sure, except I never wanted to do it in the first place. You overestimate the power I have.”

Bellamy smirked. “Honestly, I don’t think you were trying very hard, Princess.” The word seemed to startle him as soon as it came out. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “Anyway, you don’t have to decide now. Just figure it out before next week.”

Clarke nodded as he stood up, and she followed his lead, going slower than him on purpose so he wouldn’t con her into walking with him again. She was too mentally exhausted for that. It wasn’t an issue though, because Bellamy didn’t wait around for her. Before opening the door out of the library he turned back, watching Clarke bend down to tie the shoelace that had _somehow magically untied itself_.

“Good luck, Clarke.”

She smiled up at him before he left. It was a sweet gesture. She really, really enjoyed those from him.

_ Thanks, but I don’t need it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so freaking busy, but you already know that. Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, because it took me forever to write. I am at least mostly satisfied with how it turned out even though it had a super rocky start my god.
> 
> Since it's picking up in my mind and getting to places that I'm looking forward to, I'm hoping it won't be two weeks AGAIN. But unfortunately I can't make any promises.
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who keeps reading this, and especially everyone who comments, even if it's just asking me when the hell the next chapter is coming because I'm so slow. :D I love you all!
> 
> Also, I am trying to get back into tumblr since I maybe have people who would actually want to follow me. [Maybe?](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rayraymindgame)


	18. Exam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke takes her exam, then has time to burn. She runs into Bellamy at the gym.

The exam was extremely anti-climactic after working toward it for so long. Clarke approached it like any of Bellamy’s practice tests, and didn’t even look up at the clock until she had finished the last problem. Only a few of her peers and gotten up to turn it in at that time, with twenty whole minutes left, so she took another ten to double check her work. It felt strange turning in her test early, but there was nothing more to do. People shot her dark glances as she walked to the front of the room and she smiled to herself. _Queen of Calculus_.

She didn’t need it graded to know she did well. In all honesty, Bellamy’s had been more difficult. He had prepared her even more than necessary, and now that it was over she felt weightless. The whole rest of her day was free, and she really wanted to do something.

Since Michelle was gone, that something was going to the gym. It was such a nice day out that Clarke was tempted to just go for a run instead, but there had been a lot of shady activity going on around the running trails lately and she didn’t want to risk it. Apparently even broad daylight couldn’t dissuade criminals anymore.

Bellamy was still injured, she remembered as she swiped her card to get in, so she didn’t expect to see him around. Instead she consciously ignored the guys with similar hair and height that would normally make her do a double take. Clarke found a machine and jumped on, turning up the music pumping in her ears.

It felt so great to sweat sometimes. It didn’t take long before her heart rate was up and her forehead dripping. Thankfully she had remembered to grab one of those small white towels in the front when she came in, so she could avoid completely drenching the machine.

She felt like she could fly. The worst thing about the gym was the containment; running on an elliptical machine was so much more confining than running out in nature. If she was outside, the wind would blow her hair and the passing trees would soar by, showing her speed. Here there was nothing but other patrons and big television screens. It just wasn’t the same, so she turned on the small individual fan, closed her eyes, and imagined she was running on dirt and gravel.

Her eyes opened automatically when the machine beeped at her. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been playing the reel in her head, but according to the timer her workout was halfway done. But that wasn’t the first thing she noticed when her eyes opened; it was the dark figure in her peripheral vision. Clarke was so startled she nearly fell off the machine, not even realizing who it was until he spoke.

“Hey, Princess.”

Clarke slammed her hand on the emergency stop and pulled the buds out of her ears, exasperated. “You can’t--sneak up--on people like that,” she managed, trying to catch her breath. Going from a full sprint to a hard stop would be difficult for anyone. She started moving her legs again to ease herself down. “Especially when they’re exercising.” She exhaled deeply. “It’s dangerous.”

“Sorry,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if he meant it. “You had your eyes closed; I thought something might be wrong.”

“Nothing wrong, just trying to escape.” She wasn’t trying to be short with him, but she wasn’t exactly prepared to have a conversation in the middle of her run. For one, it was hard to get the words out and also breathe properly.

“Fair enough.” He got the hint, and started putting in his own earbuds.

Clarke turned the treadmill back to a more steady pace as he walked away, only just remembering that he shouldn’t be there. Scaring her had apparently messed with her head. “Hey!” He turned to look at her, and when she didn’t look away he walked back over with a sigh. She worked her way up to a quick walk.

“What?”

“You can’t be here, you’re still hurt.” She frowned at his crossed arms.

“You’re not _actually_ my doctor, and I’m not an idiot,” he sighed. “I won’t hurt myself.”

“You can’t know that.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “If it hurts, I’ll stop. The idea is pretty simple.” He was done with the conversation; she could tell when he started shifting away. “I’m just running today. Right here.” He pointed to the treadmill in front of her. “Feel free to watch.” He grinned and Clarke found herself glad that her face was already red from running. “For medical reasons, of course.”

_Of course._

Clarke watched as he stepped onto the treadmill and sighed when he picked up the pace to a jog, his ass tight as his legs pumped. His shirt was loose, but clung perfectly to his body; arms moving close to his sides. With that expert form, he probably wouldn’t hurt himself after all. Clarke found herself staring anyway.

Other women and a few men looked him up and down as they walked by, and Clarke found herself glaring at them like a hypocrite. She didn’t even know why it gave her a knot inside her abdomen, so she tried to ignore it and focus on running instead. Even though she had been going twice as long as she usually did, Clarke didn’t slow down until Bellamy eased to a walk.

It wasn’t for any reason in particular. She wasn’t waiting for him or anything. _I can leave whenever I want to. More exercise is healthy anyway._

When Bellamy turned around, wiping his face with one of those handy towels, he walked back to Clarke. “I thought you’d be gone by now,” he said as she climbed off of her machine. His wavy hair was drenched with sweat, a few curls stuck to his forehead, and his shirt was almost completely transparent. _Not distracting at all._

“Um,” she cleared her throat, “Yeah, I haven’t been here in a while so I wanted to stay longer than usual.” She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. It was disconcerting.

“Do you have anything left to do?”

“Just stretch, I guess.”

Bellamy nodded and was silent for a moment. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Clarke said before thinking about it. It was true, but now she thought lying might have been a smarter decision.

“I was going to get some food after this. Want to come with?” His eyes searched hers, and she wished she knew what his angle was. Bellamy wasn’t just about to ask her to come to lunch with him. This couldn’t just be some friendly, convenient thing that just happened. They weren’t at that point, were they? They weren’t friends. Were they friends? They weren’t friends.

“Uhh,” she stalled, glancing around and shifting her weight. Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, sure.”

He smiled, even though Clarke knew she couldn’t look anything but confused right now. “Okay, you can stretch then, and I’m going to hit the showers. Meet me at the front.” Clarke nodded and he smiled at her again before walking away.

_Okay, I guess we’re going to lunch._

Clarke sighed and shook her head in disbelief as she walked to the stretching mats. It seemed like a good idea to go slowly, since Bellamy would need enough time to shower. Over and over again the thought of leaving crossed her mind, but that would be a horrible thing to do. She couldn’t just ditch him after agreeing to go out; especially not when he was responsible for a large portion of her grades still. That being a deciding factor at all made her feel like a terrible person.

When he returned smelling amazing, Clarke wished she had thought far enough ahead to bring her own change of clothes. There had never been a reason for that until now; carrying a bag was just a pain when she lived so close, and Clarke had never intended for the gym to be a social place. The only person she would leave with was Michelle, except Bellamy just had to go and change that.

At least she had deodorant.

“Just, uh, give me a minute,” she said, bringing her purse and two towels that she grabbed inconspicuously into the individual bathroom. She wiped herself down with a damp towel, paying careful attention to the key sweaty areas. After drying off with the other towel she reapplied a few layers of deodorant and sniffed. Good enough.

When Clarke returned Bellamy didn’t look annoyed like she had expected; just content waiting there. Considering his views on punctuality that struck her as somewhat odd, and she didn’t want to push it. “I’m ready,” she said, and he nodded.

Clarke wanted to ask where they were going, but instead she just followed him. If she spoke at all, that would undoubtedly spark other conversation; though the silence made her feel awkward, they were sure to talk over lunch and it she wanted the time to compose her thoughts. If only he had given her a list of talking points like they did during academic discussions; then she would know what she was preparing for.

Bellamy matched her stride the entire time, despite his clear height advantage; each step calculated and fluid. It didn’t make her feel pressure to speed up; instead she was simply grateful. They had just finished working out, after all, and Clarke didn’t want to strain her already tired legs for his sake.

If his legs felt the same sore burn, Bellamy didn’t show it. Every muscle in his body contracted and relaxed beneath his lightly tanned skin his as he moved. Clarke didn’t want to admit how long she just watched him; discreetly, so he wouldn’t ask questions. It wasn’t because of attraction or desire, just fascination. Did she look like that when she walked? Doubtful. Her body was not nearly as defined or graceful. The only attention she would catch was from the bounce of her curves.

He probably wanted to talk about class. There was no way he was just being friendly, she decided. It just wasn't possible. Maybe he needed references from their tutor sessions, or some kind of review from her. Clarke frowned; he didn’t need to buy her lunch for any of those things. It was causing her unneeded distress. Thinking about it again, she frowned even deeper; he’d never actually offered to pay, she created that delusion on her own. Feeling stupid but also relieved, she recognized where they were going after turning the next corner: the Chinese restaurant where they had run into each other what seemed like ages ago.

“There isn’t any seating in there,” said Clarke, but Bellamy just laughed. That didn’t make her feel any better. “Seriously, where are we going to eat?”

“We are on a huge campus and it’s a nice day. We can eat anywhere we want.”

Both sentiments were true, except Clarke wasn’t too keen on the idea of eating sloppy Chinese food outside. For that, she at least needed a table-like surface and an abundance of napkins where they wouldn’t blow away. They could easily find an eating area at the Union, but she didn’t want to walk all the way out there and be around people in her sweaty gym clothes with some of the most pungent food known to man. In fact, Clarke didn’t know why she agreed to that in the first place; what if he had brought her to a legitimate restaurant?

When they arrived Clarke was faced with the new issue of what she was going to choose for lunch. Usually she would order at least four items off the menu and eat leftovers all week, but she wasn’t about to be that gluttonous in front of Bellamy. Not that he didn't know already, having seen her there before with her huge bag of food, but she still had this thing called pride.

“We will have pork fried rice, chicken lo mein, kung pao chicken, beef and broccoli, fried dumplings, two egg rolls, wontons, and extra white rice.” The man behind the counter nodded as Bellamy spoke, and Clarke was too dumbfounded to react right away.

“What are you doing?” She hissed as the man punched the order into the register. “Why did you order so much? And what do you mean ‘we’?” She knew what it meant, but she still needed to hear him explain.

“Well I’m not going to eat that all by myself,” he said simply, handing over his credit card with a smile.

“What do I owe you?” Clarke reached into her wallet. There weren’t many bills, but she could always pay him back for the rest later.

“My treat.”

Clarke frowned. That was unacceptable. “We didn’t agree to that.”

“We didn’t have to, I’m buying us lunch. Nothing to debate here.”

“Bellamy, that’s a huge bill, and you don’t owe me anything.”

Bellamy sighed and turned toward her with crossed arms, then sat down in one of the three chairs by the counter. It would be at least fifteen minutes for that much food. “If you want to play that game,” he started, watching as she cautiously took the seat next to him, “If you can’t just accept a nice gesture instead of questioning it, then technically I do owe you something.” He smiled as her eyes narrowed. “See, your father paid me a sum of money--a very large sum of money for the job, I might add--for a certain number of hours a week spent tutoring. I did the math, and my total is about an hour short. So I do owe you an hour of time, which is roughly equivalent to what I'm spending on your food.”

Clarke pursed her lips and absorbed each word carefully, nodding slightly. That made sense. This wasn’t charity from him, then. This wasn’t some complicated scheme or ulterior motive. _Good._ “Okay,” she said simply, and he shook his head.

“I’m glad that’s satisfactory to you, Princess.”

Maybe it seemed strange to Bellamy, but to Clarke it was completely reasonable to abstain from accepting big favors or doing anything to disrupt her world. If Bellamy bought her a crap load of food or anything else for no reason, their dynamic would suddenly be tipped in his favor; she would feel obligated to return the gesture because they weren’t friends. With friends or potential conquests it was completely different, but Bellamy was neither. _Unless you’re just being naive._ The thought was unnerving. If this was his way of starting a friendship outside of their professional rapport… Well, that would be stupid.

Clarke sighed. If he wanted to be friends then he should just say it. Mind games were for children. Being nice wasn’t exactly a mind game, but it was close enough; Clarke’s mind was certainly reeling from it.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy asked. Clarke had no idea how long she had been sitting there in silence, staring at nothing. She tried to avoid getting in her head around people, but Bellamy was just so damn confusing.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, trying to quiet her brain. “So where are we going to eat?”

“The Union is a five minute walk,” he said, and Clarke made a face. “What?”

“It’s really crowded there,” she said, and Bellamy laughed at her.

“We go to a huge University; everywhere is crowded. If that was a concern of yours I think you made a grave mistake.” His grin was infectious.

“That explains a lot, thank you,” she said with a small laugh. “Seriously though, I don’t want to subject people to this.” She gestured to herself and Bellamy scoffed.

“You can’t seriously be thinking about that.” He sighed when he saw she was serious. “Nobody cares what you’re wearing. You aren’t even being a slob, you just worked out. The world should be proud.”

“Yeah, I worked out and didn’t bother to take a shower or change after so now I’m super gross and don’t want to walk around campus, especially around people who are trying to eat.” Bellamy just shook his head in disappointment. “Sorry I have standards for myself.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He waited a beat. “We don’t have to go to the Union then. If you don’t want to be around people, we can find a place outside.”

Clarke sighed as he made the same suggestions she’d already shot down in her head. No, she knew what she wanted now. “You said the Union is five minutes away,” she said, and Bellamy nodded. “Well, my dorm is also five minutes away. Let’s go there instead.”

Bellamy’s face fell, and he studied hers carefully. “That’s not necessary,” he said quietly. “If you want to go home I can just leave you with your share.”

“No,” she said immediately. “I’m not going to agree to lunch and then bail after you buy me stuff. I’m not trying to get out of anything. I just want to eat, with you,” she added carefully, “at my dorm. Then I can change and be comfortable and we can talk about whatever you wanted to talk about, because I’m sure there was something.”

After a long moment of visible contemplation, Bellamy broke his hard gaze. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” Clarke was prepared to be annoyed with him, but the statement sounded sincere. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been to her dorm before. In fact, he had come unannounced of his own accord, and this time he was actually invited so it shouldn’t be a big deal. Granted, he’d never been inside before, but it wasn’t that different. Her dorm wasn’t some secret, personal trove; she had casual peer acquaintances over when necessary for group work. This was even less awkward, because at least she knew Bellamy.

Now going to _his_ place; that would be different.

Clarke didn’t think on it for too long, because the man came back out behind the counter with two heaping brown bags stapled shut. He wrapped them both in plastic bags with a large smiley face on the front, though Clarke didn’t hold it by those handles for fear they would snap from the weight. Bellamy waited for her cues as they walked, even though he obviously knew the way, so Clarke led him silently back to her dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY.
> 
> I've been halfway through this chapter for a while and it took a trip to my favorite cafe to get it going again. I had to split it up because otherwise it would probably take another week to get done. :/
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for the comments, and sorry I haven't been responding to them anymore because I am always so strained for time. BUT I promise I read them all and they make me very happy. You are all so nice, even though I'm super lame and keep making you wait for ridiculously long periods of time. I love you all! :)
> 
> I'm excited for this next chapter, so I'm hoping it just flows out super fast.
> 
> Also, I'm getting really excited for the next chaptered fic I'm going to write... Even though it will take a LOT of careful planning so it will be a really long time before I even start. Well after this is finished.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed! <3


	19. Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy finds himself in Clarke's room for lunch. They discuss things.

Not two months ago Bellamy was at this same door, waiting for Clarke to answer. He could still remember the warm flutter in his chest when she did, and the pang of jealousy to know that it was Finn she wanted to see. This time he was invited, and Finn was gone for good. This time she wanted him there, for her own reasons. He, also, wanted to be there, desperately, though he could never tell her why.

It all terrified him.

It was too risky.

_You’re being an idiot._

They were supposed to talk in public, with hoards of people around. They were supposed to be out in the open for all eyes to see, like always. Outside of the library they had a lecture hall; outside of a lecture hall they had a restaurant. To be alone with Clarke, with no clear societal bindings aside from those he placed on himself, was dangerous. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. Bellamy didn’t trust himself.

_You should just go._

He was too close to her, right now, following her into the small room. It was suffocating to be so near and intimate, but with impenetrable walls keeping them apart. _It’s for your own good. Control yourself._ His eyes focused on her, close enough to touch, and he immediately knew that was a mistake. Even with sweaty clothes and matted, messy hair, she was beautiful. It pained him to hear Clarke be so critical of herself, while unable to counter her self flagellation with his own opinions of her. She didn’t see what he saw, and she could never know.

Clarke pointed him to the futon, and he sat down on the far end, uncertain whether she would join him there or at her small desk. She reached behind her bookcase and pulled out a tv-tray, propping it up in front of him. Bellamy placed his bag on it, but Clarke moved it immediately to the long coffee table she was pulling between them. There was plenty of space to spread out the boxes now, so Bellamy began doing just that.

“I’m going to change,” she said suddenly, and Bellamy expected her to leave for the privacy; instead, she walked over to her closet and propped the fresh clothes on the ladder to her lofted bed. “Just… don’t watch,” she added, peering over her shoulder as she lifted off her shirt.

More warning would have been nice. It took him a moment to register what was happening, and by then he had already watched her reveal her smooth, bare back. Even her shoulders were beautiful, and now he wished he could know what the rest of her looked like beneath the clothes she always wore around him--for good reason. With great difficulty, Bellamy gathered all the will he could muster and pulled his eyes away as she reached behind her back to remove her bra.

This was torture. In his peripheral vision, he could tell that she was taking off her pants now. It would be so easy to just glance back at her now and drink it all in, but instead he was good; he respected Clarke’s wishes. Minutes passed without any visible movement or spoken words from her, and the temptation became unbearable. What was she even doing that was taking so long?

“Can I look yet?” he asked, wishing for something to distract himself.

“No,” she answered quickly, then huffed. He frowned.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for something to wear.”

“Aren’t you at a closet full of clothes?”

“Yes.”

“So just pick something.”

She huffed again. “It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I need to do laundry.”

Bellamy was tempted to walk over there and see exactly how few clothes were hanging up due to the laundry predicament; he expected there were plenty of outfits and she was just being difficult. “If you don’t choose something I’m going to come over and do it for you.”

“No, that’s not… Don’t do that.” He heard some clicks and rustling. Finally. The fear of him seeing her half-naked was apparently a good motivator. Not that he would actually do such a thing; he wasn’t that big of a jerk. “Okay, I’m good.”

Bellamy let himself relax and immediately looked over to her, watching as she crossed the room to the shelf where she kept her dishes. The top she picked was a thin blue blouse with no sleeves; definitely not something she would wear out in the current weather, but it looked nice on her. So did the black skinny jeans that beautifully accentuated her backend. “You look very nice,” he said, but Clarke just wore an expression of uncertainty.

“I feel so awkward in this,” said before placing two plates and some silverware next to the cartons of food. “I only wear these kinds of clothes when I’m expecting to get drunk.” Bellamy smiled as she sat down on the other end of the futon. “Not that you care.”

He sighed, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “You must think I’m such a jerk,” he said, and she didn’t say anything in return. He wished he knew what was going on in her head. “Now I’m sorry I didn’t bring any alcohol for you, Princess.”

That made her laugh. “Believe me, it’s for the best.”

Maybe so, but Bellamy would love to see her in that situation, with all those inhibitions and pesky filters gone. The closest he had ever gotten was at that frat party months ago, with hoards of drunks between them and Finn hanging on her arm. That was an image he didn’t need to see again, so he started piling greasy chicken, rice, and noodles onto his plate to focus on instead. Clarke followed suit; it pleased him to see her keeping up with him. Most of the girls he knew would feel too self conscious to eat like that in such a situation.

He already knew Clarke wasn’t like most girls.

They ate between short bouts of small-talk, mostly revolving around the food and weather. Both of them frequented the restaurant, so they had plenty to say, but Bellamy could tell that Clarke had something else on her mind. “How was the test?” he asked when she fell silent for the fifth time.

“Oh, good,” she said quickly. “I finished early. It wasn’t very hard. But I shouldn’t say that, because every time I think I did great on a test, it usually means I did about two letter grades worse than expected.” She made a face, then started to look genuinely worried, and Bellamy couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sure you did fine, Princess.” He pushed his empty plate across the table, and leaned back on the futon, wishing he’d stopped a little sooner. “I did my best to prepare you. There’s no doubt in my mind that you aced it.”

“Great, now you’ve jinxed it on top of my jinxing it.”

Bellamy shook his head with a smile. “That’s just ridiculous.”

Clarke sighed and pushed her own plate away, with a few small pieces of chicken sitting between the piles of peppers that she apparently wasn’t fond of. Duly noted. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Who says I wanted to talk about anything? Maybe I just wanted to do something nice for you.” He crossed his arms and looked at her seriously, but she didn’t seem the least bit convinced.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

Bellamy scoffed through an amused smile. “I’m not allowed to be nice?”

“No.” She shook her head, then leaned forward after a beat. “I mean, of course you’re allowed to be nice. But _this_ would be weird without a motive, like getting me to talk about something.” Clarke eyed him carefully, and he hid his emotions with a broad grin.

It was clear what she meant; if he was just being nice, then this was too much like a date. Apparently that idea made her uncomfortable; she sure looked it. For him to even consider the possibility that she was interested in him was ridiculous, he realized now. She didn’t want to spend casual time with him, let alone date him. Bellamy knew it was out of the question anyway, but Clarke probably didn’t. He accepted the shattered ego with all the grace he could manage and decided to give her some peace of mind.

“You’re right,” he said, and she visibly relaxed. His ego took another hit. “I actually wanted to talk to you about our tutoring situation.”

“I thought you said I have a week to figure that out.” Clarke pulled her legs up onto the futon and Bellamy tried in vain to look away. It wasn’t appropriate to stare, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“You can take as much time as you need,” he said. The span of a week was just something he had thrown out there; if Mr. Griffin paid him for it, Bellamy would start tutoring Clarke again as late as the day before her finals. That would just be less money and more inconvenient than starting right away, but that wouldn’t stop him. “I just want to lay everything on the table. Consider all the options, and make your decision for the right reasons.” He watched Clarke as she looked away, deep in thought, nodding slowly. “If you care, that is. You can do whatever you want, but for some reason I get the idea that this is something you might be concerned about.”

She sighed and pulled her legs in closer to her chest. “You would be right.”

“Okay then.” Bellamy shifted so he didn’t have to keep turning his neck to look at her. “What are your thoughts on the whole situation?”

Clarke frowned. “I thought _you_ would be talking to _me_ about this.”

“I need to get an idea of what you’re thinking before I can do that effectively.”

“Well maybe try not to sound like a therapist then.”

Bellamy laughed, but her frown didn’t budge. “Very familiar with therapists, Princess?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

People generally had a negative view of therapy, and he knew that, even though he didn’t share the opinion. Therapy could be an incredibly useful and sometimes necessary tool, and he wouldn’t feel any differently about Clarke had she used it in the past. But that wasn’t important. “There’s a reason therapists speak the way they do.”

“Well I hate vague questions.”

“They are designed to get the most information.”

“That doesn’t work with me.” She smiled then, at his look of slight frustration.

“Fine.” He sighed, and tried to gather his thoughts. “I have a feeling that you are going to decline my offer to continue our sessions. Is that right?” They held eye contact for a long moment before Clarke nodded slightly with pursed lips. Bellamy ignored the sinking in his chest. “What I’m not certain of is the reason, so I want to make sure it isn’t one of the wrong reasons.” He smiled when she scoffed.

“How could any reason be a wrong reason?”

“Easy--I don’t want it to have anything to do with me.” Clarke fell silent, and he revelled at the reddening in her cheeks. “For your information, so you have all the facts, I want you to know that these sessions are not a chore for me. Being your tutor is one of the the most pleasant and best paid jobs I’ve had. You are a great student, and were already a great student before I got to you; that’s one of the reasons that you are pleasant to teach and have responded so quickly.” He kept throwing around that word--pleasant--because all the others that he would prefer to use seemed too aggressively nice in an unprofessional way. It didn’t seem to matter; the blush on Clarke’s cheeks only grew, much to Bellamy’s approval. “If for whatever reason you thought I didn’t like you, or enjoy teaching you, and that has something to do with you not wanting to continue our sessions, please reconsider. Of course if that has nothing to do with it, don’t be swayed the other way by me either. I’m not desperate.” He grinned and she laughed a little. It didn’t touch her eyes; she was clearly deep inside her thoughts. Bellamy wished he could be there with her, and know what was going on behind those eyes.

When it was obvious that he didn’t have much more to say on the issue, Clarke spoke; slowly, carefully. “It would be a lie to say that didn’t have something to do with it,” she started, looking up and away from Bellamy, clearly gathering her thoughts. “But the main factor has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”

“Good.”

“Honestly, the main thing is that I don’t want to need tutoring. I don’t want to be the person who needs special treatment.”

Bellamy sighed and shook his head. “You don’t need tutoring. It has nothing to do with you not being good enough or smart enough or needing me to get by. You don’t.”

“But you don’t actually know that.”

“Yes, I really do.”

“No,” she stared him down, unwavering, “you don’t.”

He sighed again; it might have been a new record. “You are a great student.”

“I can’t actually know how great of a student I am until I’m doing it all on my own, just like everybody else is.”

It was aggravating, how stubborn she was. “Clarke, _listen_ to me.” He wanted to yell at her or shake her and make her listen to him, but now that he had her full attention it was more important to be especially persuasive. “I have worked with hundreds of students in the past, and if I have learned one thing, it’s that a person will only learn as much as they are willing to. You are an amazing student, and that is clear because you ran with this opportunity. You can teach many things, but it is nearly impossible to teach a good work ethic. It turns out that the students who need the extra help the least, are the ones who benefit the most.”

Clarke sighed and nodded slowly. Was she considering his words? Perhaps. “Except I needed the help, so your theory is flawed.”

Bellamy sighed heavily, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“I was almost failing the class.”

“Only because I was grading you harder than everyone else.” Bellamy tried to ignore the feeling of stupidity and regret at admitting that little fact, but the fire in Clarke’s eyes was making that quite difficult.

“You _what?_ ”

Oh well, the damage was done.

“Look, if you were anyone else most of those problems wouldn’t have been marked off. They weren’t wrong, your methods were just different. In the long run, that would cost you, so I made a decision. That decision was to push you. I thought you could handle it, and I was right. If I had been wrong, then I would have started treating you like everyone else.”

“I was an experiment.”

“I guess you could call it that.”

She looked mad. “There’s no way you could know my abilities in this class by a single homework assignment.”

“You’re smart, Princess. I could tell. Call it a hunch.”

Clarke huffed. “I appreciate the compliment, but that was still a shitty thing to do. Talk about abusing your power.”

“I know. You don’t have to forgive me.”

She scoffed and frowned silently for a while. “Maybe in a few weeks.”

Bellamy grinned, and her ferocity softened. “Does that mean you want to continue our sessions now?” He had to exert a bit of self control to not look overly pleased with himself. "Was that all it took? I can keep going if you want, about how brilliant you are in comparison to your sad, sad peers." With a dramatic eye roll, she shook her head.

“I don’t know, I still need to think about it.” It wasn’t a flat-out no. Bellamy tried to convince himself that he didn’t care either way. It was nice having an excuse to see her. _Calm down, Bellamy._  Though maybe if they did stop this tutoring thing, he would have a reason to be more social. Maybe he could make the extra effort to run into her more. It wouldn’t be difficult; her hangouts consisted of very few places. He knew this. Hopefully that didn’t make him a creep.

“Take your time. Like I said, I’m not trying to push you either way, I just want you making an informed decision.”

Clarke nodded. Again, with the thinking and not speaking. He wanted a window into her thoughts. “I still need to talk with my dad about it.”

“Understandable.”

“He’s paying for it and all.”

“Yes, he is.”

“I need to make sure it isn’t a waste. College is expensive enough as it is.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He smiled, but Clarke suddenly looked uncomfortable. Was it something he said? Nothing he said during the previous few minutes had been particularly offensive or blunt.

“He wants to meet you.”

“Who wants to meet me?” He forgot what they were talking about; he was too busy recounting their conversation and watching her hands fidget around.

“My dad.”

“Oh.”

“He’s coming here for Thanksgiving.”

“Ah.”

“That’s why I asked about it before.”

Bellamy remembered, but he wasn’t sure what to say now. The statement was completely out of left field.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“How about you ask me when he’s here, and I’ll see if I’m available.”

“You’re sure?” She didn’t look convinced; he wasn’t exactly convinced either. It wasn’t that he wasn’t open to meeting his most recent employer, but considering the other circumstance, the one where he was into the man’s daughter without her knowledge, he could only see the meeting going in an awkward direction. Awkward situations were something Bellamy actively tried to avoid. However, as someone who was strictly Clarke’s tutor there was no reason not to meet the man who signed the checks.

“I’m sure. Just let me know when he’s in town and we can figure something out.”

Clarke nodded, and he could tell the conversation was over. It was so over, that he felt it best to stand up and leave. “I should get going,” he said when she gave him a questioning look.

“Take some of the food,” she said.

“No, keep it. Honestly, I still have leftover Chinese food in my refrigerator." Kind of sad, really.

“I don’t know if it will all fit in mine.”

“I can help you play Tetris with it, if you would like.”

Clarke laughed and shook her head. “No, thanks.” She stood up to walk him the couple of steps to the door. It was a cute gesture. He didn’t even mind the silence as he stood in the doorway, watching her shift her weight from foot to foot.

“Did I tell you how nice you look?” Clarke blushed at the question, making Bellamy’s smile broaden, and nodded. Oh right, he remembered now. Good for him. “Well, I'll tell you again then: you look very nice. Laundry day be damned.”

“Thanks.”

He wanted to kiss her. More than anything, right then, in that moment with her standing uncomfortably in front of him, he wanted to kiss her. There was no reason to; it was completely inappropriate, but every fiber of his being tingled with anticipation, urging him to lean forward and just _do it_. Except that would be a complete violation of her, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her more uncomfortable. _Don’t do it, Bellamy._ She was his student, but it felt so right. _You can’t risk it._ He wanted to. _You might scare her off._  He frowned. That was the killer; rejection. At least as Clarke's tutor he got to see her and talk to her. _Yeah, don't risk hurting that ego, Bellamy._ Fuck his conscience. That guy sucked.

That guy was also right.

“Well, I’ll see you later, Princess.”

“Bye.”

The small voice following him down the hall made him smile again. It was a long moment before he heard her door shut, knowing full well that she had been watching him walk away. He loved having an effect on her. Maybe, under the right circumstances, she could be interested in him as well. If only he could be free to act on his urges and know for sure. _There’s always next time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So long... Almost a month of waiting. Sorry guys. Hopefully I can get a good start on the next chapter this weekend, because I'm SUPER excited for it.
> 
> As always, I'm really busy with work. I also got the carpets cleaned and my dog neutered and looked after a coworker who got his wisdom teeth pulled, so it's been a crazy time haha. Anyway, the work roller coaster won't be over until late summer, but I will try my best to keep up with my fics because they are such a good distraction for me. Bellamy and Clarke forever! <3
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and commenting, even when I don't respond you all make me so happy, you don't even know! :)


	20. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is flustered by a change of plans.

**Hi honey, how are you?**

**_Fine, dad. What are you up to?_ **

**Driving.**

**_Driving… Dad, you shouldn’t text while driving._ **

**I pulled over.**

**_Well at least you’re being safe._ **

A long moment passed, so Clarke put down her phone, expecting that to be the entire conversation. It was always unpredictable with him. The phone buzzing again made her jump. She looked up to Michelle's bed, almost expecting a loud pointed cackle at her jumpiness, but she'd been gone for hours now.

It was from her dad again, of course. Clarke closed her textbook and crossed her legs, expecting a longer conversation now. If it wasn't something legitimate, he wouldn't have responded again so quickly. When she read the words, her heart sank.

**I’m actually driving to campus.**

**_… Whut._ **

Nope, not okay. That couldn't be right.

**I’m about halfway there. I should get in around dinner.**

Clarke hesitated, fingers twitching over the screen as she took a deep breath. Nope, not okay.

**_Dad I thought you were flying. You already had the early flight booked for Wednesday._ **

**Change of plans.**

**_It’s a 12 hour drive._ **

**What can I say, life is an adventure. :)**

Clarke scoffed and wanted to throw her phone across the room. It was an extreme reaction, but her dad could just be so frustrating. Everything had been planned for weeks now, and he had to have one of those special little ideas of his and go change everything. Honestly, she shouldn't be surprised; this was extremely typical. A smile crept across her lips, despite her anger. _Goddamn it, Dad._ With a huff, she typed out a response.

**_I’m not ready for you yet. I thought I had more time._ **

**You do, I’m not in for 6 hours!**

That urge crept up again, to chuck the phone. Instead, she grabbed at her hair at the roots. A familiar twinge of anxiety tickled at her chest, filling it slowly with ice. Today wasn't a good day for this shit.

**_I need to clean, I still have homework to do, and a lot of reading that I’ve been putting off, and I’m going to be really boring which isn’t fair because you are DRIVING for HALF A DAY to see me and I should make time for you._ **

**Calm down sweetie. Take a deep breath.**

No. She wasn't going to calm down. Unacceptable.

**_I don’t like plans changing._ **

**I know.**

**_These were solid plans, with plane tickets involved. I was counting on them not changing._ **

**I know. I have my hotel room and can hang out there while you do your work. You don’t have to clean for me either, in fact I will be happy to clean with you when I get there.**

**_You don’t have to do that._ **

**Or if you want I can pretend I’m not there until we had planned. It’s a big city, there is plenty to do without bothering my perfect little student. :)**

**_Okay well now you’re just making me feel bad._ **

Another deep breath, and the fog in her head cleared a little bit. She was being unreasonable; her dad was great and sweet and was driving hours just to see her and it wasn't fair to be mad at him. Even though he knew how she felt about plans. Even though he wasted a perfectly good plane ticket. Even though she specifically told him which day to come and he ignored her.

Maybe she was allowed to be a little peeved.

**Not my intention! I should get back on the road.**

**_Okay, be safe, and text me when you stop again._ **

**Will do, hun. Love you.**

**_Love you too dad._ **

Clarke frowned at her cell phone, reading the conversation over again for the fiftieth time. What was going to be a pleasant visit was now filling her with dread. Nothing was ready, and he was on his way two whole days early. She wasn’t lying about the reading and homework either; there was so much for her to do before Thanksgiving break. Only one of her classes was cancelled for the week, and the others decided that a few days off meant plenty of time to do bucket-loads of pointless busy work.

At least her Calculus tutoring was over, or on hold, or whatever it was because she still didn’t know. It was over a week now since she was supposed to have an answer for Bellamy, and she still didn’t. Clarke was almost certain he had tried to start the discussion with her after class once, but never followed through; he just looked at her with those deep eyes, clearly wanting something from her that he wouldn’t ask for. That was fine, she didn’t need the extra pressure anyway. He told her to take her time, and that’s exactly what she was doing.

It didn't stop her from feeling bad about her indecisiveness, considering it was the difference between Bellamy having an extra source of income or not.

Four hours. Fighting the urge to text her dad back again and undoubtedly distract him while driving, she picked up some of that dreadful reading and managed to pound out four whole pages that were unfortunately lost the moment she dropped the book out of boredom and bubbling anxiety. Perhaps cleaning would be a better distraction.

There honestly wasn’t that much to do, even though the small room made it feel unbearably messy. After picking up a few clothes strewn around the futon and floor, washing the small pile of dishes in the bathroom sink, and cleaning the random papers off of her desk the dorm looked nearly spotless. All of that took about twenty minutes, and it didn’t do much to calm her nerves.

Why was she even nervous? Clarke loved her dad; missed her dad. It was going to be great seeing him and having some time together. If he had just stuck to the original plan then there wouldn’t be that nagging feeling in her gut that she was going to miss something, or forget something, or mess something up. Nothing in particular, just _something_.

Oh, and she couldn’t forget that her dad still wanted to meet Bellamy. That was definitely something to dread. It might be a good idea to ask exactly what he wanted to talk about, or why he wanted to meet him. Yeah, her dad was technically his boss, but he also knew there was a chance that the tutoring would stop since he set it all up in the first place, so having any discussion was essentially pointless now. It was possible that he only wanted to be friendly, but that somehow seemed too easy.

Stressing out about the visit, Clarke retained almost none of the chapter she just finished. Maybe it would be better use of her time to take notes and read those later instead of the dry text; it wasn’t like normal reading was effective to her currently scattered brain anyway.

The buzz of her phone was a very welcome distraction.

**Three hours away. Think about what you want for dinner.**

**_I thought you were staying at your hotel and pretending you didn’t come early for your daughter’s sanity._ **

**If you want, but this would be much more fun.**

**_I do still have homework._ **

**Is it due tomorrow?**

Of course he would ask that. She couldn't help but roll her eyes without anyone around to appreciate it. What a responsible parent.

**_No._ **

**Then spend some time with your father who is exhausted from a very long day of driving.**

**_That was your own choice. You had a plane ticket._ **

**Plans change. I told you I’d clean, right?**

**_I already did that, and you can’t do my reading for me._ **

**I am a well employed adult with money and will buy you anything you want for dinner.**

Some battles weren't worth fighting.

**_You win._ **

**See you soon Clarke.**

**_Drive safe dad._ **

Okay, three hours to get everything done. Everything. She sighed and opened her textbook back up, determined to get through half of her reading before dinner. If only it wasn’t so incredibly dull, she would have it done already. If only it wasn’t so incredibly important for her final exams, she would be tempted to not do it at all.

Taking notes somehow sped up the process, and Clarke was able to power through two out of the five chapters before Michelle came charging through the door, mumbling to herself unintelligibly. Within seconds new books and clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor, and Michelle was huffing loudly in her bed.

“Something wrong?” Clarke asked, only half looking up from the text.

“We’re going out tonight.” She looked so hopeful and it sounded so final, but it wasn’t going to happen. Clarke wasn’t about to leave her dad alone in his hotel now, after agreeing to dinner, and she wasn’t going to let him follow her to some frat party either. In all honesty, he probably would.

“I can’t.” Michelle looked legitimately upset at that response.

“Of course you can’t.” The venom in her voice stung.

“Hey, that’s not fair.”

“I think it’s very fair. When’s the last time you’ve come out with me? I’ve been to nearly a dozen parties this month and you haven’t gone to any of them. Since that concert, it’s like you just aren’t trying anymore. It was so great for like a couple weeks, and then Finn was a douchebag and now you’re a hermit again. Are you still avoiding him? Is that what this is? Because I need you to get over it and be a good friend because I really need it.”

Clarke frowned and crossed her arms, avoiding eye contact. “No, Finn has nothing to do with it. I’ve just been really busy.” Michelle did have a point; she wasn’t putting forth as much effort lately to be social. Maybe she was being a shitty friend. It wasn't intentional. Social life was hard. “I promise I will come out with you soon, but I can’t tonight."

Michelle sighed. “Sure. What’s your excuse this time?”

“I’m having dinner with my dad.”

Her expression changed in an instant from annoyance, to confusion, to excitement, back to confusion. “I thought he was coming on Wednesday.”

“He decided to come early. I only heard about it a few hours ago, when he was already on his way.” She sighed, remembering yet again how unprepared she was for his arrival.

“A few hours ago? Wasn’t he flying?” Michelle sat down, watching Clarke with shining eyes.

“Apparently he canceled and decided to come early instead. I don’t know any details; I’m hoping he’ll explain when he gets here, but he probably won’t.” She sighed and checked her phone again, but there were no new messages. Two hours. Clarke frowned and looked sideways at Michelle. "What are you so pleased about?" It was bad enough without her being all mischievous.

A broad grin spread across Michelle’s face; apparently Clarke’s hermit-like behavior had been forgotten, possibly forgiven. “That means I get to meet him! This is going to be great. What should I wear?”

“Nothing.”

Michelle cackled. “That’s a little bold, don’t you think?” She winked and Clarke made a face.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Ugh, that’s my dad you’re talking about. Seriously, contain yourself.”

“Hey, I’d be the one wearing nothing, not him.”

“Okay, when I said ‘nothing’, I meant not to worry about it because it doesn’t even matter and you don’t need to get dressed up or anything weird. He’s _my_ dad, which means he’s old enough to be _your_ dad. All that stuff you keep spouting about him being hot is gross.” So gross. Ugh.

“The important thing is that he’s _not_ my dad, so I can say those things.” Her huge grin was so annoying, and Michelle knew it. That only made it bigger. “Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never been attracted to anyone around your dad’s age.”

“Nope, never.”

“Come on.”

Clarke considered it and sighed heavily. Michelle pointed and laughed. “That’s different.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Just try keep it in your pants.”

“No promises.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. Gross. “There will be promises, or I’m hiding him away until you leave.” Less than two days of avoidance wouldn’t be too hard, but she knew Michelle wouldn’t push it anyway.

“You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.”

She groaned and pouted. “Fine, I’ll behave.”

Clarke nodded triumphantly. “On that note, would you like to come to dinner with us?”

“Tonight?”

“Yep, as soon as he gets here.”

Now she looked uncertain. Weirdo. “I don’t know, wouldn’t that be intrusive? Maybe you should ask him first. He might want to catch up with you alone.”

“He’ll be fine; he’s lucky I agreed to even see him tonight with all the work I have to do.”

“Wow, Clarke, now you’re wanting to blow off your dad who is literally driving all day just to see you? I knew you were bad, but come on.” Clarke frowned as she shook her head. “Work can wait, we have almost a week off! Live a little.”

“You’re acting like I didn’t agree to dinner.” It was hard not to get defensive about this; it didn't seem fair.

“It’s kind of sad that you had to ‘agree’ to anything. That makes it sound like a chore. Homework is the chore, remember? It should be the last thing you want to spend time doing, because you are a college student and are supposed to avoid work at all costs unless it somehow magically involves getting drunk and having sex. God, they should teach a class on being young and irresponsible for people like you. Lesson one: remove stick from ass. Lesson two: get a fun friend to show you to ropes of social life. What’s that? You already have one! Way to be ahead of the curve. Lesson three: listen to that friend, and accept all invitations because you don’t know what’s good for yourself.”

“Are you done?”

“Almost. Lesson four: ensure you complain about the amount of work you have to do more than you complain about your social commitments. That makes your friends and family feel less alienated.” She smiled, clearly amused by her own wit. “Okay, now I’m done.”

“Finally, I thought that was going to be a full lecture. Did you prepare a lesson plan and everything? That could be an interesting curriculum.”

“Maybe I will do just that.” She smirked, crossing her legs and giving that smug expression. Still so proud of herself. “You might learn something useful.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “ _Anyway_ , do you want to come to dinner or not?”

Michelle fell silent again. “It might be weird is all. I mean, I would love to meet your dad, believe me,” the intense look in her eyes with that mischievous smile was disturbing when the conversation was about her father, “but I don’t want to intrude.”

“Okay, how about I ask him when you aren’t around, so he doesn’t feel obligated at all, and if he says no then you’re off the hook.”

Her broad smile was a relief. “That sounds like a great idea.” Now that it was settled, she looked more relaxed and started eyeing Clarke oddly. Less of a relief. “Why do you want me to come so badly?”

Clarke sighed. “You’re going to scold me again.”

“Promise I won’t.”

Her dad was wonderful. She loved her dad, probably more than anyone else in the world. That didn’t always make it easy to handle him. She sighed heavily. “My dad will be here for almost an entire week, and all his focus will be on me that whole time. Everyone will be gone soon, and the more distracted I can keep him now, the better. I know it sounds bad, and he always means well, but it can be exhausting focusing on me and my future for that long.”

“Oh, so you need me to distract him.” A sly smile crept onto her lips and Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “That can be arranged.”

“We’re still talking about my dad.”

“Oh, I know.”

“You said you’d behave.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Maybe I should uninvite you.”

Michelle pouted and crossed her arms. “You wouldn’t. That would be too mean. You aren’t a mean person, right? Or a tease.”

Clarke laughed. Like Michelle would know that about her; not many people did. “No, I wouldn’t do that. You’re still invited.”

“Let your dad know now so it isn’t a weird surprise. I don’t want to make it awkward when he gets here to find a third wheel for his father-daughter date.”

“It won’t be awkward unless you start hitting on him.” She sighed, not really wanting to give her dad any excuse to text while driving, but Michelle kept giving her that look. “Fine.” Quickly, without really looking at the phone, she typed out a message of warning, and made certain to add that he should only text back if it wasn’t okay. Anything to give him little reason to attempt typing with one hand and driving with no eyes.

Another hour passed without a response, so Michelle decided to start getting ready while Clarke desperately attempted to finish her chemistry work. Her eyes kept locking onto the Calculus book sitting on her dresser across the room, and she studied the cover longingly. After spending all that time with Bellamy, that textbook almost felt like an old friend; Calculus had somehow turned into her easiest subject, at least where homework was concerned. Now chemistry was the bane of her existence, and at this point in the semester absolutely nothing made sense anymore. With math everything was built off of the fundamental ideas, and the further along the course went the more methods were developed and uncovered. It was linear; it made sense. This, what she was reading right now, might as well be in a different language.

“Why don’t you take a break and help me get dressed?” Michelle asked from the closet, holding up a light sundress.

“I can’t,” she snapped back, glancing up with stern eyes. “And you’ll get cold in that, it’s not summer anymore.”

“Wow, someone is testy.”

Clarke glared, then let out an exasperated sigh and slammed her pen on the table. “I need to finish this, except none of it makes any fucking sense and I’m too distracted to do anything about it. Plus you’re over there acting like having dinner with my father is a date or something. Just wear a normal outfit, please.”

“Calm down, Clarke, I’m not going to embarrass you.” She looked over, wary now after that little explosion. “Just because I want to make a good impression doesn’t mean I’m trying to get him interested. I enjoy looking nice.”

Clarke simmered for a few moments, then closed her textbook. “Sorry.” Michelle smiled at her. “I’m just stressed out. I love my dad, but I wish he would give me some warning before being spontaneous like that.”

“Kind of defeats the purpose of being spontaneous.”

“Well then maybe he just shouldn’t be spontaneous.”

Sighing, Michelle walked over and sat on the futon, now sporting a nice flowing belted top and tight dark pants. Much better; she looked casual enough that Clarke wouldn’t have to dress up and feel awkward when she just wanted a simple night out with her dad. “Oh, but that’s no fun. Just stop worrying and go with it.”

“In an hour I won’t have any choice.”

“Stop acting like it’s such a chore; you’re going to have fun.” Michelle threw a pillow at Clarke, who deflected it immediately to protect all of the items strewn across her desk. It still managed to knock over a box of crackers and her cup of pens and pencils.

“Not cool, man,” she mumbled, picking up the pillow and hugging it to her chest as she grabbed her things off the floor. When she looked up, Michelle was watching her with crossed arms and pursed lips. “Fine,” Clarke sighed. “I’ll stop complaining and just enjoy seeing my dad for the first time in months.” It wasn’t an unreasonable statement, and that made Clarke feel worse for making such a big deal out of it.

Michelle’s frown instantly turned into a beaming smile. “That’s the spirit! Now, let’s pick out what you’re going to wear.”

 

Clarke stubbornly insisted on something much too casual for Michelle’s tastes, but she wasn’t about to dress up for her dad, because he would almost certainly make fun of her for it all night. Possibly not with Michelle there, but her father still wasn’t one for formalities.

As she alternated between getting ready, straightening up even more, and reading that damn textbook, Clarke found herself obsessively checking her phone for an update that never came. The hour had gone and passed, and now she was starting to worry that he hadn’t texted yet. If there was traffic he probably would have said something. Thoughts of crashes and ditches weren’t far from her mind. Michelle told her not to worry. It was easier said than done, even though she knew it was kind of ridiculous.

A knock on the door jolted her out of her worry; she checked her phone again, confused that there was no message. It wouldn’t be her dad; probably just someone with the wrong dorm. There was no way he remembered where her room was from the one time he had been there. Even so, she went to the door and opened it slowly. A broad smile on that warm, familiar face greeted her.

“Dad!” Clarke wrapped her arms around him and felt instantly relaxed when she felt that familiar gentle embrace, enveloping her in warmth and comfort. God, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed him until that moment, when she felt so safe and loved. “You’re okay, you aren’t dead,” she said into his shoulder before pulling away.

“Not dead, and bearing gifts!” He pulled a bottle of expensive looking red wine out of his bag with a crazy grin on his face. Clarke looked at him with an unimpressed expression that he knew all too well, making his smile even broader.

“You should have texted,” she scolded, crossing her arms. “Also, I’m not legal yet. You’re a terrible influence.”

“I wanted to surprise you, because I know how much you _love_ it.” He patted her cheek and Clarke continued to look unamused. “And I’m your father, you can drink with me as much as you want. It’s the law. Most kids just don’t have parents who are that cool.” He looked so pleased with himself, Clarke couldn’t help but smile.

She felt something behind her, and realized she had completely forgotten about Michelle, who had crept up toward the door during the whole exchange. Ah yes, that feeling of being watched was lovely. “Oh, dad, this is Michelle, my roommate.”

“Don’t forget awesome friend and cohort,” she added with a grin, extending her hand. Jake shook it with his firm grip, perfected over years of networking. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Clarke shot her a subtle warning look, that was almost undoubtedly unnoticed or ignored. Her tone was getting disturbingly close to the overly friendly voice she used exclusively for flirting. _Tread carefully, roomie._

“It’s nice to meet you too, Michelle. Clarke has told me all about you.” He stepped inside the room past Clarke and leaned against her dresser after setting down the bottle of wine. “Thank you for helping my daughter experience all facets of college life, even those a little too _fun_ for her tastes.”

“Hey,” said Clarke, crossing her arms again. “I resent that.”

“It’s okay, honey, some people are more introverted than others. I’m just glad you have someone to prevent it from holding you back.”

“It’s not holding me back.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow, then shot Jake a look. They both laughed. Clarke’s frown deepened. “Great, I guess tonight will be full of fun jokes at my expense. I feel so loved.”

Her dad put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. “You know I’m just teasing. I have to make up for lost time.”

“As long as I don’t get it from both sides all through dinner.” She picked up the bottle of wine and played with the label, passing it back and forth in her hands. Her dad watched her.

“Both sides?”

It took a moment to realize what he was asking. Oh. "Yeah, um, didn't you get my text?" Michelle shot her a look, but Clarke brushed it off; she had sent the warning text. This wasn't on her.

He smiled broadly and shook his head, as if he just remembered. "Oh, of course, yes I did."

 

For such an open person, her father was great at hiding his emotions. It was only a millisecond of hesitation, but Clarke noticed. She was the only one who ever did. Less than a moment later, his smile and charm was back in full swing. “Now I'm looking forward to it even more. The more the merrier!” Michelle looked relieved and entirely convinced, but Clarke wasn’t. That glint of Jake’s uncertainty was still in her mind’s eye.

“You’re sure, dad?” she asked slowly, watching him closely. This time he didn’t falter.

“Of course I am. Besides, I get you to myself for the rest of the week. Michelle here can help you out entertaining your old man. I know I’m such a burden to you.” He winked, and Clarke knew she wouldn’t get anything constructive out of him for the rest of the night; at least not while other company was around. Maybe it was nothing, but that was rarely ever the case.

No, it was probably nothing, just her being crazy. Her dad never avoided telling her anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst ever. I can't believe it has been so damn long. A lot has happened in nearly two years. I've gone through a lot of stuff, good and bad, but I'm glad to say I'm going to be writing more now. And it's not just a hope this time!
> 
> I'm going to try posting a chapter once a week. This one has been written for a long time, and the next. It's just a matter of getting back into the swing of things.
> 
> I LOVE ALL OF YOU!! I honestly don't expect anyone to read this because it has been forever BUT on the off chance anyone does, thank you much! :)


	21. Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's father shadows her during class.

Clarke was still full when she woke up, and exhausted from a night of anxious dreams caused by too much food too close to bedtime. It wouldn’t have been an issue if they hadn’t stayed so late and her dad hadn’t insisted on buying them dessert after a full Brazilian Churrascaria. Not too mention the glasses of wine back at the hotel. They were all too full of meat and potatoes and little bread balls filled with cheese for the alcohol to have a significant effect, but the added liquid did push the limits of Clarke’s stomach. Despite that discomfort, it had been a great night. Her father told them all about his job, all about his day to day adventures, and stories about his time teaching at the university. Though many of the professors were different now, he had plenty of inside information about the ones who had lingered. Michelle was especially intrigued; Clarke barely needed to make any effort to keep the conversation going all night.

Now she was regretting those last pieces top sirloin and those final bites of creme brûlée. Michelle didn’t seem to have the same concerns; she was crunching on a granola bar across the room while reading some textbook. “How are you hungry?” Clarke asked groggily, rubbing her eyes. God, last night’s sleep had been awful. She couldn’t even remember what dreams she had, she only knew that they all sucked. Somehow Bellamy had made an appearance, that much she could remember; the thought brought on an anxious feeling in her gut and she couldn’t recall why. It must have been something about class, or one of their tutor sessions that hadn't even happened in over a week. She pushed the dread down, not wanting to spend time focusing on something that wasn't even real. _Stupid brain._

Then again, it could have just been nausea from being overly stuffed.

Michelle shrugged. “I have a fast metabolism?” She took another bite and shrugged again. “It will catch up to me one day. Today is not that day!”

Groaning, Clarke pulled herself up over the covers and down the ladder. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“If I blow up tomorrow you’ll know why.” Clarke laughed to herself at the thought of Michelle waking up with the sudden consequence of all her poor food choices. Utter chaos.

“When are you leaving for the airport?” She asked, snapping out of her brain as she traded her worn night shirt for a less comfortable, but less hole-ridden, outfit.

“In a few hours. My flight isn’t until this afternoon, but I know like half of the campus will be there so I’m catching the bus early. I doubt leaving a day ahead will make much difference.” She sighed. “Actually, it might make it worse. Lots of professors have been cancelling today’s classes this semester.”

Clarke nodded. “Not mine, unfortunately.” That wasn’t completely true; most of her classes had actually been cancelled, aside from Calculus. It was in less than an hour, and Kruglikov was making attendance mandatory with a short notice test because of all the students who were convinced they’d get away with skipping out. Slackers, ruining it for everyone else. Not that Clarke would have missed it anyway; her dad wouldn’t let her do that when he was around. “Are you packed?” Michelle pointed to the suitcase in the corner without looking up. “Did you want to go to breakfast?”

“God, Clarke, how can you possibly be hungry?” She smiled and winked.

“It was just a question.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

She didn’t actually want food either, so she gathered up her things for Calculus with the intent to hang out at the union until she needed to leave for class. Coffee was there, and that would help prepare her tired brain for that dumb test she didn’t want to take. _Stupid Calculus._

When she opened the door to leave, her dad was standing there with a carrier of coffee in hand. “Good morning, sweetie,” he said with a broad smile. “Good morning, Michelle.” He leaned his head in the doorway, and she waved from her bed. Every time he bought coffee like this it was just for courtesy to Clarke; Jake was the biggest lover of mornings and didn’t need caffeine to wake him up. Actually, he was one of those rare people who drank decaf well before noon. Her father was an odd one. If only she had inherited that trait.

“I was just leaving for class. Did you want to hang out at the union? I’ll have like thirty minutes before I need to go.” Clarke waved to Michelle and closed the door behind her. Her dad followed down the hall, and handed her one of the cups. She drank it blindly; it was a latte. Just what she needed.

“Actually, I’ll come with you to class.” He looked very set on this idea. Clarke noticed that he hadn’t asked permission, or suggested he tag along; no, he just flat out said he was going. _Great._

“What makes you think I’ll be okay with that?” She asked with narrowed eyes.

“Because you know it won’t do any good to argue.” Clarke frowned, because he was right. “I promise I won’t draw attention to myself, or to you, or the fact that I’m your dad. I want to see an old friend, and it will be fun to sit in on a lecture again. I do miss it sometimes.” Well, now that he pulled the nostalgia card she couldn’t argue. The faraway look in his eyes was clearly an act, but it was working. Having him there, lurking in the back of class watching her along with Kruglikov was a thought that caused great discomfort. But he was her dad, and it was just so hard to say no to him and really mean it.

“Fine,” she sighed, glaring at him for good measure. “You’d better not be lying. No drawing attention to yourself. I’m not going to be the weirdo who brings her father to class with her.” He laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. “They’d probably think I was using you to cheat somehow. Bribing the professor or something.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt your street cred.” That stupid smile was contagious. Sometimes he seemed just like someone Clarke’s age, or younger. Sometimes. It used to embarrass her when he was that, but now it just made her grateful to have such a spirited, happy father. Also, the affection was actually kind of nice even though they were walking in public and broad daylight. “To be fair, I did get you that tutor.”

Clarke frowned. Oh God, she _was_ using her father for special treatment. She was already that person, and now she was making it clear by bringing her father along to class. “Dad,” she whined. “Not nice.”

“Like I said… don’t worry, kid. You’ll be fine. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

When they arrived, Clarke immediately rushed to her seat, not even looking back at her dad. To acknowledge him would be to give away their connection. Or maybe ignoring him made it more obvious, like she didn’t need to look because she already knew he was there. Well, now it was already stressing her out. Not that anyone would even notice; there were only two other students in the room at the time. It looked like the lecture that usually took place before Kruglikov’s class had been cancelled too, so there weren’t even random stragglers. Usually the first thing the professor did after walking into the room was erase the whiteboard; today it was already blank. _Stupid class, still happening right before a holiday._

Clarke heard the door open and glanced back from habit. She caught Bellamy’s eye as he walked in and felt a pleasant warmth immediately masked by cold, cold ice in her chest when she remembered her guest not twenty feet away. Before thinking her eyes darted to her father, who was already watching him sit down. _Shit, shit, shit._ Introductions weren’t necessary at this point; her dad knew that was Bellamy. Clarke caught his eye and gave a warning look. _Best behavior, remember?_ He remembered. But soon lecture would be over and he would pounce.

**Don’t look now, but my dad is sitting in the back. Fair warning?**

Clarke typed furiously, then pressed send and turned to watch Bellamy. A whole minute passed without him even picking up his phone. Damn, he must’ve turned it off for class. Who actually did that?

More students started filing in, and soon most of the seats were full. Nobody paid much attention to her dad, the same way few people bothered to notice Bellamy in the back. Kruglikov came in exactly on time, and immediately distributed the test he had warned them about. One look at the questions, and Clarke felt a soothing relief course through her. It was clearly just a way to take attendance; they ranged from simple algebra to short answers about the class and opinions on math in general. Essentially, all questions you would need to actively try to get wrong.

After that he went over the end of the current section, including a short review of all the important concepts they had learned. It was somewhat helpful, but Clarke was still bitter and convinced she could have missed the lecture without much consequence. The last twenty minutes were reserved for questions, but after a handful of them they were all too restless to think up any more. A long moment of silence hung in the air, until Kruglikov gestured behind Clarke with a small smirk. Her heart dropped when she heard her dad’s voice.

“Professor, are you going to make us stay here for the next fifteen minutes, or can we leave?” She could practically hear the grin playing on her father’s lips. Oh, he was probably so proud of himself. _Best behavior, my ass._ People turned their heads to see the speaker, and Clarke placed her hand over her face. To everyone’s surprise Kruglikov chuckled.

“Very well, you’re all excused. Have a good vacation, everyone.” There was a collective air of relief and appreciation. Fifteen minutes was very significant when it was all standing between you and freedom. Clarke gathered her things quickly to intercept her dad, but wasn’t fast enough. She hurried over to him looming over Bellamy.

Frantic, she popped in next to her dad and grabbed his arm. “Dad,” she forced an apologetic smile at Bellamy, then hissed in her father’s ear. “What are you doing?”

“Well, young lady whose name I don’t know, I’m saying hello to this helpful young gentleman over here.” Clarke watched carefully as the last of her classmates walked out the door and she rolled her eyes dramatically at her father.

“Thanks for that, Dad. Very subtle.” She sighed and crossed her arms.

“Your dad was just thanking me for my work, Clarke.” Bellamy smiled up at her, glancing between her and Jake. “Though I should be the one thanking him; I very much enjoyed having Clarke as a student.” That was directed at her father, who beamed. The charm was too thick, but it was working.

“Bellamy, how do you feel about sushi?” Her dad grinned and Bellamy tried very hard to not look taken aback. _I’m so sorry._ Maybe if she thought it hard enough, he would hear her.

“Um, sushi is fine.” He raised his eyebrows at Clarke. There it was. The uncertainty. If he had checked his damn text messages maybe this wouldn’t be happening.

“Dad, Bellamy doesn’t have time for that.”

“He can speak for himself, Clarke.”

She sighed and pursed her lips. “Not when you force him into a corner like you do so well.”

Bellamy looked back and forth between them and cleared his throat to break the silent tension. “Mr. Griffin, I really appreciate everything, but Clarke is right…” She raised her eyebrows pointedly at her father, nodding. _So there._

“Right about what?” _Oh no._ Now it was a game.

Bellamy frowned. “About sushi…?”

“What about sushi?”

“Dad, stop.” He raised a hand to silence her and she scoffed.

Bellamy looked at her, questioning. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, maybe I misunderstood. I thought… sushi...?”

Jake beamed and Clarke covered her face. _Fuck._ “Why thank you Bellamy, I would love to!” _Sly bastard._ Bellamy blinked a few times as a look of realization dawned on his face.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I was asking. I’m…” He sighed, probably unable to finish when faced with the brightest grin anyone had ever seen. Useless. It was useless. Clarke shook her head, tempted to reach over and pat Bellamy on the shoulder. _There, there._ It would be alright.

The smiles almost felt like gloating at this point. “I look forward to it, Bellamy. I really appreciate you taking the time for me and my Clarke.” He clapped Bellamy on the arm. “My treat, of course. Even though it was your idea.” He winked. Bellamy smiled weakly. _Too soon._ “We can pick you up tomorrow for dinner. I assume Clarke has your address?”

“No, I don’t,” Clarke interjected. He thought he was so clever. “We can meet there,” she added before her dad could say anything else. She pushed him away from Bellamy’s desk. “I’ll text you or something, we’ll figure it out. Say bye, dad.” He muttered a farewell and she practically threw him out of the lecture hall. Bellamy was packing up his things slowly, probably still processing what had just happened.

“You wait here.” When Jake went to protest she glared at him. “No, actually, please meet me back at my dorm. Don’t argue either. Go find Kruglikov or something, since you claimed to want to catch up so bad.” She scoffed and shook her head. “Best behavior, my ass.” He still looked proud of himself. So infuriating. She huffed with a frown and hurried back to Bellamy’s desk. He had already stood to leave.

“Bellamy…” she started, wishing she could express how guilty she felt in that moment. He looked up at her with a frown that turned into a weak smile. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know he would do that.” Kind of a lie. “Well, I had a suspicion but I didn’t think he’d do it like that. Or so quickly.” That part was unfortunate. If she had been able to get in front of him, maybe she could have prevented this. Now Bellamy was coerced into having dinner with them, when he clearly wasn’t thrilled by that prospect. “I tried to warn you,” she added, gesturing to the phone in his pocket.

“Do you make a habit of using your phone during lecture, Princess?” His lip twitched weakly; it was a valiant attempt at a smile. “During a test, none the less. I should report you to the authorities.”

“Har, har,” she rolled her eyes. “Seriously though, I tried, so this is partially your fault.”

Bellamy gave a noncommittal response, but nothing else. After an awkward silence Clarke moved to leave, but before she could turn Bellamy spoke. Okay, then. “What do you think he wants?” The look of genuine concern was almost amusing. Almost.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I never know. He probably just wants to thank you for putting in the time to help me. I can try to get you out of it if you want.” Clarke sighed, scratching her head. “I mean, I don’t actually know where you live so you could just not show up and I wouldn’t really have a way to track you down.”

Bellamy scoffed and Clarke smiled for some reason unbeknownst to her. “That’s incredibly rude, I’m not going to do that. Especially not if…” His voice trailed off, but she kept waiting.

“Not if what?” When she looked up, he was watching her closely. It startled her enough to make her blush. _Damnit, Bellamy._ Thankfully he didn't seem to notice.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. Beat. “I mean…” Beat. “It’s fine.” Beat. The expression of annoyance was clear. Clarke was pleased it wasn’t directed at her for once, but she could almost feel the same frustration coursing through her, yelling. Spit it out. He took a breath, avoiding her eyes. Good, that meant he couldn’t see the obnoxious red color her face was still turning. “If you wanted to continue our sessions I figure you would have told me by now. I don’t want to assume anything, but I’m not exactly counting on continuing that job.”

“Oh.” Clarke wasn’t sure what to say to that, standing in the middle of the hallway with the shadow of her nearby father looming over her conscience. It wasn’t the most ideal setup for a discussion.

“We don’t have to talk about this now,” he said quickly.

“No, I just… I haven’t actually decided yet.” She shrugged. That was an oversimplification. In all honesty, she was pretty damn certain that their sessions had come to a close, but every time she made that decision for the last time it always ended with doubt. So no, she hadn’t made up her mind, not officially.

“It’s fine, Princess.” He wasn’t expecting that. She could tell in his face; he probably knew her thought process. Not long ago, they’d discussed it, and nothing had really changed since. “Just decide before the semester is over.” He smirked.

“Okay, thanks for that. Much appreciated.” She scoffed and gestured away. “I’m going to leave now.”

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Right. Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, thank you EVERYBODY who left me comments on the last chapter! I appreciate it so much, it always makes my day to hear such kind words. I am so humbled by all of you, and I hope I can continue to live up to your expectations.
> 
> Because I started this fic so long ago, and I had the basic story mapped out in my head, the characterization is really far behind in comparison to the show. I'm going to stay true to what I've already established, but I would definitely like to work in some bits from the last two seasons of the show for sure.
> 
> Things will start to move along soon. Slow burn, remember? :)
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for reading and I love you all!!!


	22. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy tries to distract himself and asks Clarke about her dad.

Even though Clarke had mentioned the possibility of Bellamy meeting her father in person long ago, he realized now that he hadn’t really expected anything to come of it. How many times did people mention something like that, a complete hypothetical or vague idea, and actually follow through? Not often. Not in his world. Dozens of suggestions of dinner or coffee left unfulfilled, just as he had grown to expect. Now this caught him off guard, and he wasn’t sure how that made him feel.

It had been at least an hour now, sitting on his couch with the television playing in front of his eyes without his brain processing any of it. Instead his mind wandered, traipsing along the path of his thoughts, trying to make sense of it all.

On one hand, it was very nice to finally meet the person who’d been paying his rent for the past two months. Jake Griffin seemed like a very nice man with a close connection to his daughter. Bellamy had a strong desire to impress this man; a man who was so important to this amazing woman who he honestly wanted in his life; wished he could have a chance with. On the other hand, that made this problematic. Parents were easy, but only when he knew what they were expecting. This was completely different; it was uncharted territory. Every other experience had been all about winning over the parents of his partner within an already established relationship. All that demanded was politeness, respect, and a bit of charm. The most important variable was already taken care of, because the partnership existed, and all the parents needed to arrive at was approval. Without that base, without that understanding that this man had already won over their daughter and therefore was worth a real chance, it became much more difficult. It became an unknown.

It was essential for Clarke’s father to like Bellamy; this he knew. It was also essential for him to remain in the dark about Bellamy’s feelings for his daughter. It was unprofessional, and a sure way to lose a job. _A job that you probably don’t have anymore._

Either way, no man wanted to hear about someone’s pursuit of their daughter. Especially if that someone was five years her senior, and in a position of authority. Especially if she was unaware, and therefore more vulnerable. Especially without any understanding of intent or trust.

_ You could’ve just said no the first time she asked. _

That seemed like the easy option now. But why would he be hesitant to meet Mr. Griffin if all he wanted was to continue working for him, and thank him for the job to begin with? He wouldn’t; that was the problem. Of course, that wasn’t all he wanted. He couldn’t care, because that would give too much away. If only he could come out and say it, everything would be easier.

It would have been smarter to wait until the semester was over. That way he could have to option to court Clarke without breaking any rules, and the power dynamic would be more balanced. It would not, then, be the worst thing for Clarke to learn of his feelings; at the very worst he would face a standard rejection. Bellamy hated this dance of uncertainty and temptation and oppressive self control.

It was too late now. Clarke might understand if he decided to bail, but this wasn’t just about her anymore. Bellamy refused to let his first lasting impression to be one so negative and disrespectful. No, he would go, and he would dance the usual dance. Just this time it would be without any music.

He sighed and looked at his phone. No new messages. No word from Clarke or Octavia or Adam or anyone else with whom he cared to speak. The ball was in his court then; it was time to start a new game.

**Tell me about your dad.** He wasn’t expecting a response so fast, but the immediate buzz made him smile.

**_What do you want to know?_ **

**Anything you think will be helpful tomorrow.**

_**Seriously? Don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine.** _

Of course, she had to be difficult. All he wanted was something to go off of, or some sort of fallback in case the conversation seemed to trend toward an awkward lull. A safety net, of sorts.

**Just give me something. It’s the least you can do.** The least she could do after forcing him into this? Not really, that wasn't fair. She didn’t force him into anything at all; this was all on him. Except he had a feeling she might agree with that. He could tell she felt bad about the whole situation. Ah, sweet manipulation. Only somewhat immoral.

_**Fine. Just give me a minute.**_ A minute turned into five.

**You have to think about it that much? I thought you guys were close.** He could imagine the look she would give upon reading that, and grinned. If only she were there; it was more fun to mess with her in person.

_**He’s hard to explain. My dad’s just a huge dork. That’s all you have to know.** _

**That is not the least bit helpful, Princess.**

_**Okay for starters I don’t know what he’ll think of the nickname.** _

A laugh escaped from his lips. She really did hate it when he called her that, so he wasn’t exactly surprised that she would use her dad to evade it for a day or two.

**Tempted to risk it.**

_**It’s a gamble. Either he’ll love it or hate it. If he starts calling me that I won’t forgive you.** _

**Fair enough.** Honestly, that was more of a deterrent than anything. Bellamy liked being the person who called her the annoying nickname. It gave him something she would always associate with him. If that was all he was allowed to have, he wanted to keep it close.

_**He’s an engineer and he used to teach. He likes sports but doesn’t follow them. He reads more than he watches TV.** _

**I guess I can work with that.**

_**Don’t talk about politics. Don’t talk about anything super controversial. Don’t ask about my family.** _

The first two requests made sense, but the third puzzled him. Maybe there was some drama there, but he wasn’t going to ask. It wasn’t his business. He didn’t particularly want to talk about his family either.

**Noted.**

_**Is that sufficient?**_ Time would tell, but he didn’t want to keep berating her with questions; this would have to do. He appreciated her making the effort.

**Yes. Thanks, Princess.**

Expecting that to be the end, he put down his phone and got to work grading late assignments and extra credit papers. Professors always gave him these menial tasks over his breaks, and it was better to get them done immediately so he’d actually have a day or two to relax. The late work and smaller tests were always a breeze to grade and he could finish a dozen within the hour. However, the extra credit was always much more involved. Thankfully this semester only one course offered extra credit, and it was so involved that only a handful of students had taken advantage. _Okay, Leslie Slade, let’s see what you know about cryptographic proofs._

An hour passed. Bellamy turned the last page and stretched loudly, forgetting entirely about his bruised ribs until he pulled too far and caused a strong ache to course up his torso. He groaned and held his side tightly, trying to will the pain away. Fuck. He lifted his shirt to check the damage, though simply looking wouldn’t help anything beneath the surface. It was just normal pain anyway, but it continued to throb long enough to be a serious annoyance. The bruise was healing well, even though it looked absolutely horrible with nearly half his side colored a sickly greenish yellow.

Maybe if he mentioned pulling something, Clarke would check on him again.

_You’re shameless._ It was true though. She wouldn’t be opposed to seeing him with his shirt off again if she was worried about his injury, but it was low to take advantage of that. It wasn’t right to use her kindness just to feel her touch on his chest again.

_ Tempting, though. _

He picked up his phone, surprised to see another text. It was from Clarke, sent over an hour ago. _Damn it._ Hopefully she didn’t think anything of it.

_**I wasn’t expecting you to care so much.** _

Yeah, well, she didn’t know him that well. _Yet._ No, she would never know him that well. _Maybe._ Maybe tomorrow night would be the start. _No, that wasn’t happening._ But it could. _No._ But it could. _No it couldn’t._

Anything was possible.

_Possible is different than probable._ No wasting time on pipe dreams.

**I like making a good impression.**

It was startling how quickly his phone buzzed, after over an hour of inactivity. Was she waiting all this time? That was a ridiculous thought, but even so it made him happy.

_**Odd. I remember you making an awful first impression on me.** _

**That was different.**

_**Oh, I wasn’t important enough for you to care?** _

**Well, I wasn’t the one who said it.** He couldn’t help but laugh. He wished she was here with him, so he could see her face. All he wanted was to watch her reactions to his prodding words.

_**That’s nice.** _

**You saw me every other day. I had time to win you over.**

_**When exactly is this “winning over” going to happen?** _

**I’ve grown on you, Princess.**

_**Like a mold.** _

**So you’re not denying I’ve grown on you.**

_**I won’t deny it but I won’t say it either.** _

**Admit it, you don’t hate me anymore.**

_**Oh yes, you’re just swell.** _

God, he wanted her so bad. This was the worst idea. He needed to stop talking to her, because he was going to fall deeper and deeper down the hole, until it was impossible to pull himself out. There wasn’t time for this. He didn’t have the energy for heartache.

**Thank you. I hope Mr. Griffin feels the same way.**

_**He will.** _

**Time will tell. I’ll see you tomorrow, Princess.**

That was it. No more texting, no more talking, no more thinking about Clarke. It was done for the night. Too much time had been spent with her spinning around in his mind, and he needed to purge. It was just painful now, focusing on something he couldn’t let himself have; not while he was working. After tomorrow, it would be the end. She would decide against continuing their sessions, and he would go back to being nothing more than her TA until the semester was over, and then he would rarely see her anymore. That was what would undoubtedly happen, and it would be for the best. He didn’t have time for this, and she didn’t need someone like him in her life.

With a strong determination, Bellamy focused entirely on his work for the rest of the night. It was mentally draining, but within four hours he was finished grading nearly everything, albeit completely exhausted. There was no energy to think about much more than the tasks at hand while getting ready to sleep, and before long he collapsed on his bed and drifted off into a deep slumber.

When his brain finally silenced, it filled with dreams of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing this thing where I write a chapter ahead, so I already have the next chapter written and I'm super excited about it! :D I just can't post it until I write the chapter after that, but it shouldn't take long. I had a couple days of writer's block but my brain has been nice to me this weekend.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! I really love all the comments, and sorry if I don't respond. If I don't, it's probably because I'm busy writing or I'm at work when I get the email and then forget. But I appreciate each and every one. <3


	23. The Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has to drive Bellamy to dinner.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Clarke leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest, leg bouncing anxiously. It had been ten minutes since she drove to her dad’s hotel, intending to pick him up in the parking lot. Instead, she’d been waiting impatiently in the corner and he still wasn’t ready. Seriously, she’d likely already walked a mile with all the pacing, and now that she’d chosen a spot to wait her body refused to stop fidgeting. They needed to leave; Bellamy practically had a punctuality fetish. “I swear to god, you take longer to get ready than me.”

“I know, I know, berate you poor slow-moving father,” he shouted from behind the door. The damn hotel fan was so loud, it almost sounded like he was yelling into a pillow. The muffled words were hard to make out, but Clarke understand well enough to know that they deserved a good eye roll.

“I don’t want to make Bellamy wait for us, Dad.” Clarke chewed on her lip, tempted to text Bellamy to prematurely apologize. She couldn't stop thinking about how anal he was about being on time, and how he would berate her after being even a few minutes late to a session. Honestly, it was bad enough that her dad had conned Bellamy into dinner in the first place; if they were also late, that was just rude and disrespectful. What a terrible second impression that would give, after the first bad impression.

“Maybe you should just pick him up and I’ll meet you two there.” Clarke huffed. No, she didn’t like that option. That was a bad option. She was not going to let her father abandon her when this whole thing was his fault in the first place.

“What are you even doing in there, Dad?” She pressed her ear against the door in an attempt to decipher what he was doing, but could only hear the whoosh of the fan over some faint rustling and running water. “If you hurry up I can just wait.”

“Sweetie,” he opened the door a crack and peered out, contorting his body so only his head and neck were visible. It seemed unnecessary unless... oh. He was nude. Gross. “I still need to take a shower.”

“Oh come on, seriously?” Clarke huffed and her dad grinned sheepishly.

“I was on the phone until the moment you got here. I didn’t have time to do anything before.” Clarke released a heavy breath and leaned on the wall again. Goddamn it. “You go pick up Bellamy, and I promise I’ll get to the restaurant before you arrive. I just need a little extra time.”

“This was your stupid idea to begin with.”

“Don’t get hostile, sweetie. Learn to adapt! Go with the flow, as they say.”

“Sure, that’s what they say.” Clarke looked at her phone for the time and sighed. “Why were you on the phone anyway? You should have just ended the conversation with enough time to get ready, or better yet, not taken the call in the first place.” It was kind of unreasonable for her to be so upset, but she couldn’t help it. The last thing she wanted was to drive to Bellamy’s apartment alone for a dinner neither of them were pleased about. It would be embarrassing to apologize for her dad’s lack of punctuality, and it was overall too intimate for her to be comfortable. Alone in a car with Bellamy. What would they talk about? All they ever discussed was math. What if there was awkward silence? Maybe he liked silence. Maybe he preferred small talk. Clarke had no idea, and now they wouldn’t even have the bond of shared annoyance toward her father because he wasn’t going to be there.

“I’d like to see _you_ refuse a call from your mother, or try to hang up on her in the middle of a conversation. Easier said than done, my dear!” Clarke could hear the laugh on his lips. Okay, he had a point there. Nobody was about to ignore or hang up on her mother without consequences.

Clarke frowned. If he was working on things with her mom, that made it more difficult to be angry with him. “Why was she calling?”

“It’s not important,” he said, disappearing back into the bathroom and shutting the door.

“You could’ve just let it go to voicemail!” She raised her voice so he couldn’t pretend not to hear her. It was a lost cause; the best thing now would be to leave as soon as possible and stop stalling. Avoiding this wouldn’t be possible.

“What done is done, Clarke! Now you’re just making yourself late!” She huffed and pushed herself off the wall.

“Fine! You’d better be waiting at our table when we get there!” Sighing, she grabbed her purse and hurried out the door, wishing she had the time to move slowly and mentally prepare herself for this stressful event that really shouldn’t require so much thought. _Social interaction, so scary._ Great, she’d resorted to taunting herself now. _Awesome._

It wasn’t that big of a deal. It wasn’t a problem at all. Clarke and Bellamy had been alone together before on countless occasions for their tutor sessions, not to mention those two times she had inspected his cycling injury. Hell, Bellamy had even stopped by her dorm before without warning, so going to his apartment shouldn’t be that big of a deal.

Except it was, for some reason. This felt different. Bellamy was a real adult, living alone in an apartment. He didn’t have the limitations of a tiny dorm room shared with another person. His place was all his own, and there was something so intimate about seeing someone’s living space like that. It was a window into who they really were. Was he clean? Did he decorate? Was his furniture new, or did he find it on some curb? Everything was significant. Everything was a part of who he was. Clarke didn’t want to share that knowledge with him, and she definitely wasn’t prepared to learn those intimate details about her tutor.

_ Former tutor.  _ Maybe.

Not that she didn’t want to know about Bellamy. Well, no she didn’t. _Kind of._ He was mysterious and intriguing and of course she was curious to know more about him. It was better not to know. It was too personal. They weren’t friends, and she wasn’t about to assume they ever would be.

Mysteries were more fun anyway.

_ Yeah, keep telling yourself that. _

 

**I need your address.** Clarke had almost forgotten that she had no idea where Bellamy actually lived. She’d intended to get his address yesterday when he had texted her with those questions about her dad, but had completely forgotten. If he didn’t have his phone around, she would be screwed. _Nice going, Clarke._

To her relief, he responded immediately. It was less than ten minutes away, so she took her time walking to the car and driving on the crowded streets. She hated driving around campus because there were always student cyclists who obeyed none of the rules of the road, and cocky assholes who liked to jump into the street at the least appropriate times. Thankfully, he lived far enough off campus that there weren’t nearly as many people around so the drive was fairly pleasant.

When she arrived, Clarke grinned happily to see him waiting outside. Obstacle one, complete. No need to see his apartment, no need to intrude on his personal life. This was her tutor, and they were going to have dinner with his boss. Tonight would be totally fine, and not awkward at all.

Bellamy smiled when he saw her car and hurried over, sliding into the passenger’s seat with a sigh. “Hello, Princess,” he grinned.

Clarke's smile quickly fell. _Not in the mood, Bellamy._ “Get it out of your system,” she warned.

“Oh, I will.” Good, he wasn’t going to fight her about that after all. With a quick check of her GPS, they were off. Thankfully she was good at directions and had a decent idea where the place was. Otherwise she would need Bellamy to navigate for her, and that just seemed uncomfortable for some reason. It wouldn’t really be, but still. That was too familiar and intimate, relying on him for directions. It essentially put both their lives in his hands.

A few minutes into the silent drive, Bellamy looked around the car, peeking his head back behind the passenger’s seat.

“What?” Clarke asked, trying her best to keep her eyes on the road instead of watching him. He looked nice. It was clear a real effort had been made in his outfit and appearance. Also, he smelled fantastic and she wanted to touch his impossibly soft-looking hair. No, no she didn't. Definitely not.

“He’s not hiding back there, is he?”

Clarke laughed, using that as an excuse to clear her throat. _Pull yourself together._  He just looked really good. “No, my dad isn't in the back seat.” That was a truly horrifying thought.

“He’s still coming though, yeah? This wasn’t some elaborate ploy to get me to go on a date with you, was it, Princess?” He smirked and Clarke flushed. Her chest started to flutter; she hadn’t expected that. Maybe she should have explained right away. Conclusions like that were a dangerous thing.

“No. Definitely not.” She coughed; her face felt like fire. “I mean, yes, he’s coming, and no, this isn’t a date.” Seriously, his scent was painfully distracting. “We’re meeting him there.”

“That's too bad.” He sighed. Clarke couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and take her eyes off the road for a moment. Bellamy returned her expression. “Then it would just be us.” Sure. That explanation didn’t help at all.

“Are you still nervous about this or something?” That was just ridiculous. Her dad was completely harmless, and it was just strange to see Bellamy not exuding confidence and control.

“Nervous isn’t the word I would use, Princess.”

“My dad really isn’t that bad. There’s nothing to worry about.” Probably.

“I’m not worried. And I have no problem with your dad. I actually like him.” Clarke waited for him to keep talking, but after a few seconds it was clear he wasn’t about to elaborate. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

How a fifteen minute drive felt like hours, was a mystery to Clarke. It didn’t make any sense. Yes, Bellamy always made her somewhat nervous, but this was just different somehow. Most of the time she could at least ignore it enough to act like a normal human, with basic interaction and whatnot. This was worst than that first test he gave her, because at least then she had something to focus on. Right now all the distraction she had was the radio playing the same four songs in an infinite loop; it might as well have been static.

“I would be talking,” Bellamy started, and Clarke jumped slightly to be pulled out of her brain so abruptly. “But I’m trying to save my comments and random thoughts for your father. That will make the conversation more interesting for you. I’d rather not tell the same story twice.”

“Oh,” she said. That thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “So, you’re still nervous then?” He gave her a look. “Or whatever you’d rather call it.”

“Parents are an art, Princess.” Bellamy sighed and leaned back in his seat. “It’s not often they don’t like me.”

“I’ve told you Bellamy, you really don’t have to worry about my dad. He likes pretty much everybody.” She looked over to him, and he was clearly not impressed by her words. “But you can _not_ believe me and _not_ save yourself some trouble, that’s fine.”

Bellamy laughed. “It’s nothing against you Princess, but that’s what they always say.”

“You’ve called me Princess literally every time you’ve opened your mouth. Can you not?” It probably wasn’t the best idea to clench her jaw, because at this point it was starting to get sore. She made a serious effort to loosen her mouth, but then he spoke again.

“You said to get it out of my system, Princess.” She glared, and he just kept smiling that stupid smile.

“Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“You should have been more specific, Princess.” Seriously, he was going to give her an ulcer.

“We’re here.” She pulled in a few spaces away from what was unmistakably her dad’s car. What a surprise, he’d actually made it. “Okay. You’re done.”

“Wait, one more.” Clarke sighed and looked at him pointedly, waiting. He thought he was so funny. Bellamy cleared his throat. “Thank you for the ride, _Princess_.” She shot him a weak smile. "Oh, would you like me to get your door, Princess? Or perhaps I could entertain you with a festive song, dear Princess?"  


“Let’s go.” She opened the door and he followed. “You’ve kind of worn out your welcome.”

Bellamy closed his door and smiled. “You’ll forgive me.” Clarke waited a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, it was over.

“You seem very confident about that.”

“You won’t stay mad at me.” Clarke rolled her eyes at that little smirk.

"Actually, I seem to recall you mentioning something about a festive song." Now it was her turn to smirk.

Bellamy stopped and eyed her carefully. "Okay, I'm done. Promise."

Clarke laughed. “Come on, let’s find my dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, I've had a lot going on. I moved a few weeks ago, and it's taken a bit getting all set up. Not to mention I've had craziness at work too, and after I got settled in with internet and everything I went to visit my parents SO that's the reason for the delay. :)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! I do have the next chapter nearly written, so I'm hoping to have it completed and edited within a week. I appreciate all the comments, even if I don't respond! <3


	24. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy have dinner with Jake.

The moment they entered the restaurant, Clarke already wanted to leave. It would have been bad enough to force Bellamy into dinner with her father at a normal, basic restaurant, but one of this caliber was even worse. Everyone was dressed much too nice for the activity of eating, and though Bellamy fit right in with his dress pants and navy button-up, Clarke was painfully aware of how plain she looked in this company. _Nobody cares,_ she assured herself, though a set of judgmental stares from the nearby group of women told her otherwise.

_ Nice. Solidarity, sister. _

Another group of people blocked the entrance, so Clarke stood on her toes and looked around them to see if she could spot her father. Part of her hoped he wasn’t there yet, but sure enough he was seated near the back speaking with a waiter. He hadn’t noticed them; maybe there was a chance to slip out.

“There he is.” Clarke jumped at Bellamy’s voice just over her right ear. _Holy shit._ Her heart pounded and she took a deep breath, stepping to the side to avoid being caught unaware again. It wasn’t cool to stand over people like that when they were involved in an inner monologue.

“We can probably just go in,” she said after steadying herself, but with a quick glance Clarke noticed that he was gone. _What the…?_ Her eyes darted around the room, and soon placed him leaning over the front desk, speaking with the hostess. Well, speaking was a loose term; flirting would be more accurate, judging by their obvious body language. A smile brightened his face, and she was eating up everything that was coming out of his mouth, laughing at words that probably weren’t even that funny. Clarke rolled her eyes. _Figures._

It wasn’t long before he returned. “We can seat ourselves with your father.”

“I could have told you that.” Honestly, the detour was nothing to be upset about; if anything it gave her another couple of minutes to mentally prepare for the potential torture looming over them.

Bellamy shrugged. “It didn’t hurt to be sure.” He looked over his shoulder at the hostess, who was of course still watching him, and winked. _Subtlety is dead._

When they found the table Jake shot out of his chair to shake Bellamy’s hand and give Clarke a firm hug. “You made it! I told you I’d beat you here, didn’t I?” He nudged Clarke, who was fighting another eye roll, and seated the two of them; Clarke across from him, and Bellamy between them. The fourth place setting had already been cleared, and soon the waiter was filling their glasses with fresh water.

“I should never have doubted you.” Clarke sat down and looked the table over, grateful that she knew how to use chopsticks as they were not provided with any forks.

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Griffin. This is very generous of you.” Bellamy smiled and Clarke held her tongue. Oh yes, the schmoozing was about to begin. This might be a long night.

“Please, call me Jake,” he said. “Bellamy, do you drink?”

“Uh,” Bellamy looked blankly at Clarke for help, but she just shrugged. It probably wasn’t a trap; her dad didn’t care. “I’m not opposed to drinking.”

“Good! I already ordered some appetizers and sake for the table.” On cue, the waiter appeared again with edamame, and assortment of sashimi, and a sake set. Jake was all smiles as he poured a cup for Clarke and Bellamy. “I completely trust the chef here, so he will be choosing our menu for the evening. If you would prefer to eat something aside from sushi, they also make a mean bowl of ramen.”

Clarke wondered why her dad had left his own cup empty, but without missing a beat Bellamy grabbed the bottle and poured for him. “That sounds wonderful, Jake.” The name sounded a little forced, but her dad clearly appreciated the effort. “I won’t need anything special.”

They all lifted their tiny cups, and before they could drink, Jake exclaimed “To Clarke!” which made her scoff.

“Come on dad, that’s weird.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Bellamy smirked and brought the cup to his lips. Jake did the same, so Clarke rolled her eyes and sipped at the liquid too. It was unlike anything she’d ever tasted before; reminiscent of wine, but with a completely different flavor. It wasn’t overly sweet, or bitter, but was pleasantly warm and smooth. _Very nice._

Clarke paid more attention to the food than the conversation, making little comments whenever she was addressed directly, but otherwise remaining silent. For the most part, Bellamy was carrying on fine without her help. It was a nice relief, and completely different than most interactions with her father and her peers. Usually there was an air of anxiety, and Clarke would act as a sort of buffer to make sure the conversation flowed smoothly, and nobody said anything wrong. Everyone could be so uptight, but Bellamy was going along with her father’s ways. If a joke was said, he would joke back. If he suggested something ridiculous, Bellamy would continue the exaggeration. It was almost relaxing to know they were so well matched.

Also kind of disturbing. After zoning out for a good amount of time, she was snapped back into reality by the sound of her name, and decided to listen more closely after that. They mostly talked about work, and classes, and the engineering industry, about which Bellamy was eager to pick Jake’s brain. When the first set of rolls came Clarke must have zoned out for a moment, because soon she was being talked about again.

“No, Clarke is an only child. We were lucky enough to have even her, since both of us were more focused on establishing our careers.”

“Okay, let’s leave it at that,” she said with a forced smile. This was not the place for funny anecdotes about her childhood, or embarrassing stories that seemed to come up at the most inappropriate times.

“What about you Bellamy, do you have any siblings?” Clarke’s ears perked up at her father’s question. She did her best to hide her interest by focusing extra hard on her small cup of alcohol.

“I have a younger sister,” he said.

Her sake was gone now, so she put the cup down. “What’s her name?” Clarke couldn’t help but ask; she was genuinely curious.

“Octavia.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

Bellamy smiled softly. “I think so too.”

“Is that Octavia, as in Caesar’s sister?” Jake asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“That’s the one.”

“Interesting; were your parents interested in ancient Rome?”

Bellamy laughed, like he was sharing an inside joke with himself. “No, not really.” He noticed Clarke’s empty cup and pulled it toward him, tilting more sake from the bottle. At that moment the waiter came back to the table, and Jake pulled him over to talk about something in hushed tones. Bellamy pushed the cup back over to Clarke, and leaned in toward her.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Princess?”

She nearly choked on the sake and glared at him, quickly glancing over to her father.

“Don’t worry, he’s not paying attention.” Bellamy smirked and she glared.

“I _was_ having a decent time. The food is good.”

“That’s an understatement.” Bellamy downed the rest of his cup, then placed it in front of Clarke. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He looked pointedly at the bottle to her left, so she reached out to it.

“You want me to pour it…?” Bellamy smiled as she tipped the bottle to fill his cup.

“You’re not supposed to pour for yourself when you’re drinking sake,” he said, lifting it to her before putting the cup to his lips.

“Oh.” Clarke quickly recalled as much of the night as she could, trying to verify that statement. He was probably correct. “I didn’t know that. Why do _you_ know that?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Princess.”

_Honestly._ Clarke was clenching her jaw so tightly she thought it might pop a blood vessel. “I know it’s hilarious to you, but you really need to stop calling me that tonight.”

“He can’t hear us.” The smile wouldn’t leave Bellamy’s face, and it was incredibly annoying.

“But **I** can hear it.”

He laughed. “Well, yeah.” That was the point, wasn’t it? _Ugh._ He was so aggravating.

“You’re a fucking piece of work, Bellamy Blake.”

“Oh stop, you’re making me blush.” She wasn’t, but the suggestion made her own face grow heated.

“It’s not a compliment.” That expression of his was so annoying. She wanted to scold him, or slap him, or do something to knock him down a peg. At the same time, there was something about her anger and his persistence that she enjoyed, in a weird way. It was infuriating, but the fact that he kept it up just to annoy her made her feel… _something_. She didn't know, really. It was stupid.

He leaned in closer, and spoke in almost a whisper. “You keep telling yourself that.” He grinned and leaned back in his chair, and Clarke cursed the shudder that ran through her. _More alcohol, now. All the alcohol._

The waiter left and came back with more drink, and also more food. There was a little more pleasant small-talk before Jake rubbed his hands together with a sigh and turned to Clarke.

“So, while I’m glad to have gotten to know you better, Bellamy, and I’ve very much enjoyed all this conversation,” Clarke frowned. _Uh oh._ “Part of the reason for this dinner, was to figure out definitively if Clarke wants to continue the tutoring agreement, or finish the semester on her own.” Bellamy nodded, and also looked at her.

_No pressure or anything, jeez._ Clarke cleared her throat. “I’m pretty sure I’ve made up my mind.” It felt like she was on trial or something. “I’d like to stop the tutor sessions, and go back to the previous TA and student relationship. You know, see how I do on my own.” She could feel Bellamy’s eyes on her, studying her, and she blatantly avoided meeting his gaze.

Jake clapped his hands and nodded. “Well, that’s that! Bellamy, I would pay you for one more session to wrap up, and after that you are free from this extra job.”

Bellamy smiled. “I appreciate that, Jake.” He turned back to Clarke, though she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “If you change your mind, just let me know. You know where to find me.”

Clarke nodded, feeling a sort of bittersweet finality. It was exciting to have that extra freedom again, without the added stress of frequent appointments and extra homework, on top of reading Bellamy’s unpredictable moods; but that also made her strangely sad. Not sad, just, something was ending. It was hard to describe.

When she noticed they were still watching her, she started turning red and stood up. She needed to leave so they would go back to talking about unimportant things like before. “I’m going to the ladies room, I’ll be right back.” She hurried away to the safety of a very private and expertly decorated stall, and placed her head in her hands with a sigh. This dumb situation had become much too complicated. Emotions were stupid, and now she had to just forget about them.

Well, with more to drink she might even finish the night with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the most infuriating chapter. No joke, I wrote it four times. The first, second, and third times were by choice. I finally got it to where I wanted yesterday, and then my computer crashed without it saved. I almost gave up completely today, but instead I scrapped everything again and wrote it again from scratch. I hope you enjoyed it, because I'm never touching it again haha.
> 
> Anyway, I think this version actually turned out better than the others, so it's all for the best.
> 
> I really appreciate everyone reading, and putting up with my completely unpredictable posting schedule, or lack thereof. Much love to all.


	25. Accusation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner continues, and Jake discusses something more serious with Bellamy.

All things considered, this evening was going very well. Bellamy couldn’t deny the twinge of disappointment after hearing Clarke’s decision regarding her tutoring, but he’d connected on a serious level with her father; that could only be a good thing. It was clear that she had been nervous about the whole situation, but even Clarke had started to visibly relax. It pleased him to see that. It almost felt like a sort of trust, watching her step back and let them be friendly and converse without holding on so tightly. He had learned very quickly that she liked being in control. It was an accomplishment to see her loosen that grip. Now that she was no longer present, her father was eyeing Bellamy with a new expression that he couldn't quite read.

“I think she made the right decision,” said Jake, grabbing a piece of sushi with his chopsticks and plopping it into his mouth.

Bellamy nodded. “She would have been successful either way. I know it’s important to her to prove her worth without any help. I can respect that.” That didn’t make it any easier to accept. No, that wasn’t exactly right. He could accept it completely, with true understanding, but the sentiment still seemed like a waste. Clarke had nothing to prove, except to herself.

“Exactly. And this way you two can have some distance as well.” He wiped his face with his napkin while Bellamy digested those words. As the comment sunk in, his jaw tightening. It almost sounded like an accusation, the way the words dropped off his tongue. As if he was suggesting something that definitely was not happening. Did he think there was a… _situation_ … going on? No, that couldn’t be it. There was no way he could pick up on subtleties that quickly, just from this one incomplete dinner.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Even downing an entire glass of water couldn't relieve the sudden dryness of his mouth. This feeling wasn't thirst, it was stark fear. In the moment, nothing sounded less appealing than arguing about Jake's suspicions. His pulse quickened. Clarke would be back soon; this conversation had to be finished by then.

“I can see you have feelings for her.”

Wide eyed, Bellamy shook his head. That had escalated much more quickly than anticipated. “I don’t-”

“You don’t have to deny anything, Bellamy, I know you are a respectable young man with a bright future. I can tell you are smart, and driven. I am also not blind.”

Chest pounding, he took a deep breath. At least he didn’t think he was some sort of harlot trying to seduce his daughter. It could be worse, but in that moment it felt pretty fucking horrible. “I don’t know what to say.” What _was_ there to say? Nothing worth saying, at least. Something told him that denial would only lead to a lengthier discussion, which would arrive at the same conclusion. _Goddammit_. An hour with this man, and he had seen right through everything. It was like Jake could read minds, or micro-expressions or something. It couldn’t be that obvious; he’d spent his energy on Jake all night, and barely paid any attention to Clarke at all. There was no way he was that transparent; Bellamy prided himself in having an air of mystery. Maybe it was all a lie. Maybe Clarke knew as well. It was entirely possible, that she had picked up on the development of his affections after all their time spent together. Perhaps that was a reason for her ending their sessions. Anything was possible at this point. That thought was truly horrifying.

This was not how Bellamy had wanted this evening to go. Not at all. Nothing could have prepared him for this turn of events.

“She feels the same way.”

It was like a brick wall crashed into him. “What?” _No._ He couldn’t have heard that right; his mind was racing, and he was imagining things. A quick replay in his head, and Bellamy had definitely heard correctly. It was entirely possible, though, that Jake was wrong. Bellamy highly doubted that she had told her father anything specific. Actually, the more he thought about it, the less likely it was to be true. There was no reason for Jake to tell him this, except to play a crazy mind game; some sort of test. It was pointless. He was wrong, and they needed to finish this nonsense. Clarke would be back soon.

“I know my daughter, and she’s much more obvious than you. Actually, I’m surprised that you look so taken aback by that suggestion.” With a chuckle, he ate another piece of sushi. “I’m not telling you this to encourage you in any way. I’m telling you this, because you need to be the responsible one.”

_Of course._ That was him; the responsible one. Always. Everyone could count on Bellamy Blake to do the right thing. It all made complete sense now. This wasn’t a trial, or an interrogation; this was a warning. The suggestion toward Clarke's feeling was just to exaggerate the need to maintain a distance. It was very unlikely that this situation was in any way dire. “I promise, you have nothing to worry about. I love my job.”

“Yes, I can tell.” He nodded. “You love your job, and you aren’t allowed to have intimacy with any of your students. I know that you know that. I know that she knows that. I just wanted you to know that I know that too.”

Bellamy pursed his lips and nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” He smiled, and raised his glass. Bellamy lifted his own as well, but he could hardly feel his grasp against the ceramic; his body had gone numb. He fought the urge to laugh at how ridiculous this was, instead receding into himself and remaining silent. Jake was much less phased than him; maybe it had all been a strange waking dream, or a stroke. “Now that’s done.” Definitely not a stroke. What a strange dinner, this was.

“Yes.” Thank god it _was_ done. When he remembered that Clarke would soon be back at the table without any knowledge of what had just transpired, he began to worry that he wouldn't be able to recover in time. How clear it would likely be, that she had missed something important enough to change the tone of the room.

“Quickly, one more thing.” Bellamy frowned, bracing himself. Okay, this needed to be over now. He could see Clarke across the room now, maneuvering between the tables. “You know, and I know, but I don’t think she knows yet. Clarke takes time to figure everything out. When she does, remember this conversation. It’s not worth it.”

He took a deep breath. “Yes sir.” That was debatable, the worth, but he understood. Jake was covering his tracks. There was no way for Bellamy to discover if Clarke really did feel for him, because she likely didn't know yet herself. How convenient. It was very arrogant, for someone to assume he knew better than the person experiencing the alleged feelings.

Jake took a drink, then studied Bellamy with a smile, looking satisfied. “I like you, Bellamy Blake. I think you’ll go far. You have potential, and so does Clarke.”

The next statement he heard wasn’t said out loud, with actual words, but Bellamy acknowledged it all the same. It came entirely from those bright but stern eyes, embracing and piercing him all the same.

Don’t do anything to jeopardize it.

Immediately upon Clarke’s return, Jake acting as if nothing had happened. The range of emotional control on this man was truly impressive. They continued to chat about odds and ends, but Bellamy took the backseat in much of the conversation, allowing Clarke and her father to control the flow of discussion. At first he had worried that she would notice something different, but at this point it seemed she was much too tipsy to care. It was amazing, how a few drinks could bring down those walls so easily. It was a double edged sword, for sure. Nothing would please him more than to have a true discussion with her, one on one, with her barriers broken enough to connect honestly. At the same time, that would be dangerous. At the same time, that would never happen. At the same time, she could easily end up in a situation where someone else could take advantage of that openness.

No matter how smart, or strong, or level headed Clarke was, he couldn’t help but feel the urge to protect her, regardless of whether she needed it. Of course she didn’t need it; she was clearly independent. He just wanted to keep away those who would take advantage, or be around without realizing how lucky they were. It sounded so pathetic, the moment he thought it. It was controlling. It was something he was constantly trying to distance himself from.

The problem with Jake pointing out the impossibility of a relationship with Clarke, was that it made him unable to think about anything else. The mind was such a fucking fickle thing. At least after tonight, he would be able to push her out of his mind entirely. That little silver lining helped. All the contact with her would be in the lecture hall, from a distance. If she came to his office hours, it would likely be with other students there as well. This thing he was feeling; he would be able to control it. After tonight, he would be okay.

Except he didn’t really _want_ to be okay with that.

Bellamy couldn’t help but let part of him entertain the hope that later in their college careers, maybe there could be some potential there. It was entirely possible that they could cross paths again, and fall into some sort of relationship that wasn’t complicated by their academic situation. The only problem was that life wasn’t possible to plan like that. He never wanted to hope for something that was such a long shot, only to be disappointed later. It was much too selfish to even entertain a hope that Clarke would remain single until he was ready for her, sacrificing whatever potential relationships would come her way.

In the end, both of them would be happy, sooner or later.

While his internal struggle was going on, Clarke was continuing to drink. It was a little strange to him, that her father didn't intervene, but it wasn't his place to comment on that. Dinner was beginning to wind down, as none of them had touched the remains of the sushi for long enough that the waiter was beginning to clear everything. After a short moment of silence, Clarke turned to Bellamy.

“Where are you from?” she asked, leaning in toward him a little too close. She looked at him seriously, though her eyes were slightly glazed over. After staring for a moment she began to laugh, then composed herself quickly.

“I honestly don’t really have an answer for that,” he admitted.

Clarke raised her eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. “You don’t have to avoid the question, everybody is from somewhere.” She rested her cheek on her hand, watching intently.

“Well yeah, but I don’t really have a hometown. We moved around a lot. I think we were in Harlem the longest, but even that was only a few years.” Bellamy thought about it, nodding, ticking off all the homes he could remember. Clarke watched him in awe.

“Why did you move so much?”

“My dad was in the military.” There was more to say, and he could tell that she wanted him to expand on the thought, but that was for another time. All of that, his childhood, was too much to get into now. If nothing else, Bellamy wasn’t keen on the idea of divulging such personal information in front of Jake, especially after the discussion they’d just had. It wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time, to say the least. Nothing against the man, he just didn't share personal information to just anybody.

He could tell she wanted more, but maybe she could read the hesitation on his face. “That’s cool,” she nodded. “I don’t know anyone in the military, I don’t think. I’m pretty sure most of my family was strictly pacifist.” She chuckled. “Pacifist. Pacifist. It’s a weird word.” Bellamy glanced at Jake, who was nodding, watching his daughter with amusement.

It was hard _not_ to be amused, but for a different reason. Speaking to a veteran, Clarke said she didn’t know anyone in the military. He wouldn’t correct her; that, too, was for another time. Except their time was running out, so perhaps it was something he would never get to share. Maybe it was better that way.

“That’s a respectable choice,” he said with a smile.

“I need to stop drinking,” she said suddenly, picking up her empty glass, then laughing. “It’s fun though. Did you have fun?” She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced at it instinctively. The motion caused her to remove it promptly, though Bellamy wished she hadn't.

Bellamy hesitated, looking at Jake, then smiled at her. “I did.” There were high points and low points, but overall it was better than expected. If Clarke had been this cheerful earlier, it could have even qualified as a more than fairly decent night. The only time Bellamy had seen her drink was very briefly at a party much earlier in the semester, but the interaction was much too short to get a real impression of her. Now, though, he knew; she was a happy drunk.

“As did I,” said Jake, straightening his jacket. “So much fun, in fact, that I lost track of the time.”

Clarke’s face grew serious quickly. That statement from her father was apparently better than a bucket of cold water. “Are you leaving?” she asked. The cheer was nearly gone, though Bellamy noticed a little smirk appear on her face after a moment. He wished he could know what she was thinking.

“It’s getting late, we shouldn’t keep Bellamy. I’m sure he’d like to enjoy his break alone or in different company.” He smiled at Bellamy, who smiled back, not about to deny the man his excuse for pardoning himself.

“Dad, I drove Bellamy here.”

“Sweetie, I’ll take Bellamy home and you can stay at my hotel. They gave me an extra bed. It’s not far, I can bring you back to your car in the morning.”

“Dad,” Clarke sighed and frowned. “I don’t want to leave my car overnight.” Bellamy could see the wheels turning in her head, making her upset. Well, that was no good.

“I could drive her home,” he suggested. They both looked up at him; Clarke had a look of relief, and Jake one of reservation. “I can walk home, or take a bus. It’s really not a big deal. That can be my favor to you both, after such a lovely dinner.”

“That’s a great idea.” It was worth the skeptical expression of her father, to see Clarke’s eyes light up again. “If you’re actually serious.” Bellamy nodded, and she smiled with a sigh. “I’m sorry dad, I’ll just sleep better in my own bed.”

Jake sighed with a smile. “Of course I understand.” He stood up and gave Clarke a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Thank you for seeing her home, Bellamy. It’s a very generous offer.” He pursed his lips after speaking, holding eye contact for a long moment. Yes, the sentiment in his expression was well understand. _Remember our conversation._ He wouldn’t forget. These actions in particular clearly weren't received in good faith, but nothing would happen. He would respect Jake's wishes. It was for the best.

“It’s no problem, really.” He stood as well, offering a hand. “Thank you again.” Jake's grasp was firm as they shook.

“Have a nice evening, Bellamy.” He turned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Clarke.”

“Bye, dad.”

With that, he walked out of the restaurant, and Bellamy let out a sigh of relief. The air between them had become so thick it could be cut with a knife, but somehow Clarke hadn’t seemed to notice. Maybe it was the thoughts clearly bouncing around in her head, pulling her from reality. It was fine now, it was only them.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly, looking up at him slowly. “For offering that. You didn’t have to.” He couldn’t read her expression. He wanted her to know that he wasn’t going to try anything, and this wasn’t for him in any way. If he could convince her, then maybe he could convince himself.

“It’s really no problem. Are you ready to go?” After offering a hand down to her, he regretted that gesture. Clarke looked at his open palm for what felt like ages, before gently grabbing it and slowly standing up. There was a quick balance adjustment when she made it to her feet, but once she was convinced she wouldn’t fall over everything was fine.

“Okay. Yes, I’m ready.” They dropped hands immediately, and Bellamy pushed in their chairs before gesturing for her to lead the way.

“After you, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, lovelies, for reading! I've been very busy, but writing helps me relax so I'm trying to do it more again. No promises about posting (it depends so heavily on inspiration and moods) but I really appreciate everyone who continues to follow this fic!
> 
> Comments are wonderful, even when I don't respond. I promise, I read them all. :)
> 
> Much love.


	26. Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy drives Clarke to his apartment.

Before they even got back to the car, Clarke felt guilty for agreeing to let Bellamy drive her home without more discussion. It wasn't her only option to get back to her dorm, but at this point it was the easiest. Even so, it still wasn't an ideal situation. If only she’d been more responsible, this wouldn’t even be an issue. Haphazardly, she tossed her keys to Bellamy, frowning at him when he used that opportunity to open the door for her. Completely unnecessary. He probably thought her more intoxicated than she actually was.

Well, she was still pretty tipsy. Sitting in the car felt nice, even though they’d only been upright for a few minutes.

The moment Bellamy started the car, she turned to him. “You aren’t walking home,” she said firmly. _Not a chance._ It was too late to be walking that far alone, and the last thing she wanted was to be responsible for a mugging incident. She’d decided that the moment Bellamy made his offer; now she had to convince him, and had no clue how difficult that would be. _Stay strong._

“I have to get home somehow, Princess.” She crossed her arms and shook her head a little too dramatically. He sighed. “You’re not in a condition to drive me.”

“I _know_ that.” Obviously, otherwise there wouldn't even be a problem; she would be acting as glorified chauffeur, and all would be well. “It’s not safe to go that far.” Bellamy laughed, shaking his head. “I’m serious.” He clearly wasn't as concerned.

“I can take care of myself, I promise. I’m more worried about you behind the wheel of a two ton vehicle with a boozed up brain, than me walking down streets that I’m very familiar with in the dark.” He remained so calm it almost sounded condescending. Clarke narrowed her eyes at him. “I do it all the time, believe me. Just another night.”

“Yeah, but this time it would be my fault that you’re out walking in the first place, so if something happened then it’s on me. That’s the difference.”

“That’s ridiculous. If I walk home, it’s because I choose to.”

“I couldn’t take that guilt.” She shook her head again, closing her eyes. He still wasn’t listening to her. Nobody ever wanted to listen to her. It was a problem.

“No guilt needed, Princess.”

“But I put you in the situation where you needed to choose.” She spoke slowly, gesturing to make him understand. “I drove you to dinner, I should drive you back.” Clarke held her resolve, and Bellamy sighed at her.

“You can’t drive me back, you’re intoxicated.”

“I’m not saying right _now_.” Clarke felt like she was being very clear, but apparently that was just in her head. “Just wait until I’m not drunk, and then I’ll drive you home.” _There it is._ Gears visibly turned in his head, but he clearly wasn’t yet convinced. “I’m not even that drunk.” He raised his eyebrows and laughed. Clarke glared at him, annoyed that he didn't believe her. She was the one sitting there, inside her body, feeling how she felt. He didn't really have a clue. “Okay, come on, I’m really not. I’m still tipsy but I can already feel it wearing off. Soon it will be all aches and pains, just give me this.” Seriously, anything that tasted as good as sake was sure to give a killer hangover.

The light they were stuck at was very long. Bellamy rubbed his temples with his right hand, sighing. “You’re sure you can wait it out.”

“Yes. _Yes_. Yes, yes.” Clarke bounced as she nodded, smiling in relief. That was it. _Success_. “We can just wait at my dorm and then I’ll take you home. My roommate is already gone for break, so it’s fine. I’ll water myself like a plant and take you home and wake up good as new tomorrow.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ll wait until you’ve sobered up, but I’m not waiting at your dorm. I don’t want you driving any more than you have to. One trip is enough.”

“Um,” she frowned, looking down. That was something she hadn’t been expecting; she didn’t know what to say. It was too cloudy to think properly. It seemed kind of weird to just sit outside in the car, plus it was cold. They’d have to leave the car running for the heat, and that was just a waste. Maybe there was a late night coffee place nearby; that would make much more sense. Her dorm was still a better option, though. Privacy and everything. Not for anything weird, just because people could be kind of draining.

The amount of time that he let her stew was almost cruel. “We’ll wait at my apartment. Then when you’re ready, you can drive yourself home. That makes the most sense.”

Clarke scrunched up her nose and frowned. Somehow that was the last thing she was expecting. “Or... we could just go to my dorm.” The idea of being in Bellamy’s personal space was incredibly off-putting to her in this weird state of mind. There was just too much potential for discomfort and who knows what else. Plus, the same nerves that had crept in when she picked him up for dinner were suddenly back in full force. Going to his apartment meant seeing where he lived. That was so personal. It just felt wrong. Was it too late to just suggest he take a cab? _Shit._

“It’s not a big deal.” Saying the words didn’t make it true. “It makes so much more sense.” She huffed. “Come on, Princess, do you really want me hanging around in your room?”

The question took her off guard. Maybe it was her drunkenness talking, but her first thought was yes, absolutely. Except that wasn’t right; she didn’t want Bellamy around. It was _Bellamy_. He was her tutor, the person who liked to make her life difficult and all that. “No.” She sighed. “It’s better than me being trapped in your room though.”

Bellamy laughed. “You wouldn’t be trapped. It won’t be nearly that dramatic.” No, he really didn't understand, and that was surprising because she had expected him to. He was the one who liked to keep up a wall, and have crazy mood swings, and never really let her know where they stood. It's not like he ever gave her any indication toward anything else. Now he was insisting on this solution that would definitely invade his privacy, and she didn't understand why. Everything he explained made sense, but there were so many other, less invasive options.

“So says you.” She looked out the window of the car, and they were no longer headed toward south campus, where she lived. “Already taking me there, against my will.”

Bellamy laughed, shaking his head. "You are being ridiculous."

"How does it feel to be a kidnapper?"

"I will pull over this car."

Her lips slowly crept into a smile. “No you won’t.” Bellamy raised his eyebrows and put his signal on. Clarke gasped with a grin as he slowed down and stopped at the curb, watching her the entire time. “Keep your eyes on the road, Bellamy!”

Good thing he was so clearly amused, otherwise Clarke would be inclined to feel extremely annoying. “Don’t test me, Princess.” With a sigh, he looked out the window. “Are we just hanging here, then?”

"It's up to you." She shrugged.

Bellamy took a second, huffing. "Oh, it's up to me now?"

"You're probably right, the thought of seeing your apartment is just a little frightening." There with the honesty. He didn't seem phased at all; she was probably being very obvious, even without that statement.

"I promise there isn't anything terrifying in there. It's very small."

"Okay, yeah, that's fine."

“You’re sure? I don’t want to take you anywhere against your will.” He grinned.

“Okay, what obnoxious person suggested that?” It was kind of fun being a pain in the ass.

Without any hesitation, he pulled the car back out onto the road, shaking his head and laughing. “You’re something else.” Clarke watched as his smile fell slightly, wondering what he was thinking. It was all in good fun.

“Don’t worry, it will be over soon.”

The fear wasn't exactly gone, but as Bellamy drove she was able to breathe freely. Something about this night was suddenly exciting, even though she didn't want it to be. It wasn't supposed to mean anything, but it did, to her. It was almost liberating, to be so reckless; or, reckless in her relative terms. With a sigh, she let herself relax. Sitting in silence wasn’t uncomfortable in that moment. Instead of wondering why they’d lost their words, she watched the buildings and lights fly by in the dark.

The pleasant feeling didn't last long.

“I know you want to spend the night in your own bed,” he started, and Clarke held her breath, listening as hard as she could while her heart began to flutter. No, he wasn’t suggesting anything. No, that was absurd. “I _also_ want you to spend the night in your own bed.” Okay, so they were on the same page. Kind of weird to even say that, though, if that really was the case. “However,” he spoke so carefully, but it wasn’t helping the parade booming in Clarke’s chest. “If you are unable to drive home, for whatever reason, you are welcome to stay.”

“That won’t be a problem,” she said quickly. No way, that was not a thing that was happening. _Nope._ Everything about that sounded like danger. Not because anything would happen, but because putting herself in that scenario that was almost encouraging something to happen. Something, in this case, would only hurt them both. Also, no part of her actually wanted that. _Definitely not._ Of course, he was just being nice; he didn’t want that either. All Bellamy wanted, surely, was for her to get home safely, because he was a good person.

“Great, but I’m not taking it back. Make sure you stay awake, because I’m not waking you up if you fall asleep on my couch.”

His couch. _Jesus Christ._ This was what happened when she drank, and why she usually avoided it. That feeling of excitement was fleeting; gone as fast as it came. Just too much, way too much. Well, after tonight maybe that lesson would be learned for good. No more restaurant or bar drinking. Nope, only house drinking from now on. That would be easier when she was of legal age; until then her social life was sure to suffer, while her academic career would prosper. “Trust me,” she said, clearing her throat. Maybe it would have been convincing, without that sabotage from her own body. “It won’t be a problem.”

“Good.” The car stopped, and Clarke suddenly realized that they were already to his apartment. That was much sooner than expected, and regret coursed through her. No, everything would be fine. She was being crazy.

“How are you feeling, Princess?” She had no idea to what he was referring, so Clarke just looked at him with wide eyes, then gave a thumbs up as he unfastened his seatbelt. She noticed him walking over to her side of the car and pushed hard against the door, nearly throwing herself from the vehicle before he could be chivalrous. No need for those gestures here; that just made this whole thing feel too uncomfortable.

Bellamy’s apartment was on the third floor. The hallway smelled faintly of pot, and most of the bulbs lighting each doorway were either flickering or completely burned out. They passed an elevator with an “out of order” sign stamped over the keypad, next to a long table decorated with fake flowers. _At least they’re trying._

“You live here,” she said quietly. It didn’t really need to be said, but the words slipped out anyway. No other words came, so she left it at that. He lived in this building, and soon she would see where he ate and lounged and slept. _Ugh._

“Just stating the obvious there, are we?” They reached his door and he looked back at her before turning the handle. “You don’t have to look so terrified.”

“Okay, I’m not terrified, you don’t have to be dramatic.” She sighed and waved him on. “Go ahead, get it over with.”

“It’s really not a big deal.”

“Yeah, I know, just open the damn door.”

That smirk on his face annoyed her. He pushed the door open and threw his keys on the counter. It was too dark to make much out, until Bellamy turned on the light around the corner. “Come in, Princess.” She nearly fell over, suddenly realizing that she had been leaning through the doorway, feet still planted firmly in the hallway. With a sigh, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. There it was; she was in.

The apartment was small, but had a nice charm. For a studio, it actually looked quite large. There was a full kitchen, small living area, and a bedroom. With the door ajar, Clarke could see that one of the walls in the room was no more than a two foot high shelf that looked out into the living area. That little detail was probably what qualified it as a studio, since the bedroom wasn’t contained. For someone living alone, that was probably nice. However, if someone was staying the night, that meant very little privacy.

Of course that didn’t matter, because Clarke wasn’t staying the night. Wasn’t going to happen.

Without realizing what she was doing, Clarke entered his room and looked around. Bellamy didn’t follow her in, but she heard him running water in the kitchen. That reminded her of all that she drank, and how often the urge to relieve her bladder tended to occur on nights like this. “Can I use your bathroom?” She asked, turning her head so her voice would carry, though it wasn’t necessary in the small space. Her eyes stayed locked on his bookcase, and she ran a finger along the spine of an older book; it was too worn to make out the title.

“It’s right over here.” Bellamy appeared in the doorway, and Clarke turned to face him. He pointed to his right, toward the closed door by the entrance. There was a glass of water in his hand. “You should drink this first.”

“Thanks.” She downed as much of the water as she could, then handed back the glass and glanced down to avoid looking at him directly. “Sorry for poking around,” she added as she walked by him.

“No problem, Princess. If I was trying to hide anything, I wouldn’t leave it out in the open.”

Clarke laughed awkwardly. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

He shrugged. “It’s just the truth.”

With a slow nod, Clarke walked away and into the bathroom. It was small, but that was to be expected. There was a full-sized shower, which was surprising, but the sink was tiny and there wasn’t much storage space. A shower caddy sat in the corner below the sink, and his mirror stuck out of the wall, clearly one of those little medicine cabinets. While she relieved herself, Clarke fought the urge to snoop through the cabinet. No, that was rude. It was nice of Bellamy to let her into his home. If she ever wanted to come back, she would be a considerate guest.

If she ever wanted to come back? Clarke frowned. That was a weird thought; she probably _was_ never going to come back. Their tutor sessions were over, and she had no reason to ever interact with Bellamy outside of lectures and office hours.

Clarke made a point to finish quickly, to squash any smidgen of an idea that she was doing anything other than peeing. Even so, she noticed plenty of those details she had been so afraid of learning about. The toilet paper was much nicer than what the dorms provided. His sink had a razor propped up in a cup, but there weren't little flecks of hair everywhere like in some other bathrooms she'd seen. The basin was old and stained, but it was wiped clean for the most part. Clarke took her time washing her hands, inspecting nearly everything that wasn’t in the medicine cabinet. As Bellamy had just told her, he wouldn’t leave out anything he wanted to hide. That was actually somewhat comforting, as she sniffed his bottle of lotion. It smelled nice, like him.

Not knowing why, exactly, Clarke squeezed a little into her hand and rubbed it quickly into her chest. The scent was only noticeable when she lowered her head significantly, so she was confident that Bellamy wouldn’t notice. It was strangely comforting.

When she opened the door, Bellamy was sitting on the couch and checking his phone. Everything suddenly started to sink in, and it took her a long moment to pry her eyes away from him and walk forward. He didn’t seem to notice. It felt surreal to be in his home, so casually, without any real purpose. What could he possibly have been thinking, to invite her over here? What had she possibly been thinking, giving in like that? She wasn't drunk enough to blame the alcohol. Maybe it was just the logical conclusion to a highly unusual day.

Bellamy didn’t seem phased at all, which was also strange. Clarke always thought him as a very private, reserved person. He was a mystery to her; yet here she was, in this very personal space, and he didn’t seem to care.

As soon as she walked toward him, Bellamy looked up, and she looked down slightly to avoid eye contact. “You can sit here,” he gestured to the couch beside him, “or there,” he pointed to the arm chair to his right, propped against the other side of the short bedroom wall. “Or anywhere on the floor, if you’d prefer.” When she looked into his face again, there was a glint in his eye like he wanted to say more. He looked amused, and it was only slightly unsettling.

Too many options. Clarke chose the armchair and Bellamy smirked at her. It was comfortable and worn in, but didn’t look too old. The seat was wide enough to pull her legs up to her side, so she did, resting her head against the cushioned arm of the chair.

“Do you want a blanket, Princess?”

“I told you, I’m not sleeping here.”

“Be careful then, that chair might put you to sleep.”

Clarke sighed and propped herself up more, but kept her legs tucked under her; that was much more comfortable than sitting straight with her feet on the floor. Looking around the living area, it was fairly well decorated. There was a nice desk with a computer, another bookcase, and a few pieces of art on the walls. A television was hooked up to one of those adjustable wall mounts, probably so he could watch it from his bed through the open wall. When her eyes finished circling the room and landed back on Bellamy, she noticed he was drinking a beer.

“Really?” She looked between him and the beer pointedly, not exactly sure why she was being so judgmental. Maybe because it made her want one too, even though she was supposed to be waiting out the alcohol she’d already consumed. Even though she wasn't really a fan of beer.

“I’m not the one who has to drive home.” He tipped his bottle to her and took a drink through that stupid smile. “You’re free to have one too, if you like.”

“What happened to your priority being me getting home safe?”

“Well, if you did drink more you’d have to stay longer. Obviously I wouldn’t booze you up and then put you back in your car.” He took another swig, then put his drink down on his little corner table, on top of a coaster. How very adult-like of him. “Actually, I forgot to mention I have a breathalyzer.” He paused for a moment. “But don’t ask me why.”

“What, did you like steal one from a paramedic or something?”

Bellamy sighed at her. “See, you did the opposite of what I just said.”

Okay, he couldn’t actually expect anything else. “I never said I was good at following directions. Also I never agreed to that condition.”

“You don't need to tell _me_ , Princess.” He leaned back and glanced at his phone again, then placed it on the table by his beer. “Anyway, it works and is accurate. We could actually test you right now if you wanted.”

Clarke shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

As he rummaged around near the front door, Clarke surveyed her surroundings more. It was a fairly cozy place; maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to drink a little more and stay longer, if he didn’t mind. Even though she was meeting her dad the following morning, Clarke had made a point to request only making plans later in the day after that whole getting-followed-to-class debacle.

Bellamy returned shortly with the breathalyzer, and Clarke realized she’d never actually seen one in person before; only on those anti-drinking advertisements in magazines and on billboards. It looked a little small, but had all the familiar parts.

“Okay, I’m going to hold this, and you just blow when I tell you until it beeps.” Clarke nodded and got ready, watching Bellamy for his cue. “Go ahead.” After a deep breath, she closed her lips around the little tube and blew, waiting for the beep. It took longer than she expected; by the time Bellamy pulled the device away she was entirely out of breath.

“Well?”

“Just give me a second.” He looked at the number through narrowed eyes. “You’re in luck, it actually looks like you are just below the legal limit. I’d suggest staying another ten to fifteen minutes just in case, but you’re good to leave whenever you want.”

 _Oh._ That wasn’t what she had been expecting. What a surprise, considering that was essentially the slogan of her night. Even though she hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, Clarke had to admit that it was comfortable here. The damage was done; she'd already learned plenty about him and if she left it would all be for nothing. Now, sitting in the armchair with Bellamy a few feet away on the couch, she didn’t feel like leaving just yet. Maybe it was the right decision to go, but the more time that passed, the less appealing that sounded. Not yet. Nothing would come of this, and she didn't want that anyway. There were no expectations or hopes in her head, aside from staying there for a while and then going home. In all honesty, she was incredibly content in that moment. Sitting there was just nice.

“I think I’ll take that beer.”

The smile that spread across Bellamy’s face told her that even if it wasn’t the right decision, it was one worth making.

“As you wish, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post. It's been written and unedited for a while, but I've been incredibly busy at work so I didn't get to it for a while. I have a deadline this week so I'm hoping after that I have some more time at home. I've been working weekends and 50-60 hour weeks this past month, so I'm hoping that will be over after this. :)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! I love reading all your comments, even though I usually don't have time to respond. I do read them all! :)


	27. Late Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy drink and talk at his apartment.

The moment he brought her the beer, she regretted the decision. Beer was never her drink of choice, and as an older college student Bellamy was sure to have other forms of alcohol that would suit her much better. Even so, she reached out and accepted it, taking a small sip. It wasn’t bad tasting; it was actually much better than most of the beer she had tasted in her life. That still didn’t mean she would be able to finish it before it got warm and gross.

Bellamy sat down with his own drink, watching Clarke as he took a few gulps. She brought her own bottle to her lips again and made an involuntary face, which caused him to laugh. _Damn_.

“You don’t have to drink that if you don’t like it.”

Clarke shook her head, swallowing. “No, I do like it.” She took another drink to prove her point, trying very hard to not make a face again and only slightly failing. “I didn’t think I liked beer at all but this one is actually good.”

“It’s an amber ale, and it’s pretty subtle. Easy to drink for most people.” Clarke nodded, noticing that half of his was already gone. She also noticed that he had another on the side table, waiting to be opened. If she had known he was getting another, she might have just offered him her own. Not that she didn’t like it, but she didn’t want it to go to waste. TA or not, Bellamy was still a college student, and that usually meant poor. Especially living alone, in an apartment this nice.

“I’m managing, so it must be true.” She took another drink, more of a gulp this time, and winced ever so slightly as she swallowed. When she glanced at Bellamy, he was still watching her. She wished he wouldn’t do that; it was kind of embarrassing. Way to draw attention to something she wish he’d just ignore.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, downing the rest of his first beer and opening the next as Clarke pursed her lips, wishing she had said stopped him and handed over the one in her hands.

“You just did,” she answered, by habit. He didn’t seem to mind the smart-ass response, which was good. In fact, the glint in his eyes suggested he might have enjoyed it.

“Then can I ask another question, Princess?”

Resisting the urge to be a dick again, she took another sip of beer. “Yes, you can.”

“If you already knew you didn’t like beer, why did you ask for one?” Yeah, that was a good question, actually, and Clarke was lost on the answer. Bellamy didn’t look anything but curious and amused. Maybe he didn’t care that she was fairly likely to waste at least half a bottle of his beer.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, not sure of what else to say. Why had she asked for a beer? Because he had one, and she wanted alcohol. Because he had just told her that she was all but good to drive home, and she wasn’t ready to leave yet. The only thing keeping her there was her inability to drive, and if she was sober he was certain to kick her out. Because it was a spontaneous decision and she hadn’t actually given it any thought at all.

“Here,” he stood up and reached out his hand, clearly waiting for her to hand him the beer.

Clarke took another drink, furrowing her eyebrows. Was this a challenge? “I can keep drinking it,” she insisted, but he didn’t lower his hand.

“Come on, I’ll make you something that you’ll actually like.”

“I don’t want to waste your beer.”

Bellamy laughed at that, and her stomach fluttered for some reason. “I promise you, that beer will not go to waste.” After a good moment of consideration, she handed him the beer, wishing she had been able to down more than a measly third of it. He turned and held out his other hand to her now; all she could do was stare at it, unable to move. “Come on, Princess.” He twitched his fingers and she realized he wanted her to take his hand. _Why?_ Was she misinterpreting the gesture? It was like a roadblock in her brain; she couldn’t comprehend what he wanted from her. Taking the chance, she raised her own hand slightly, and he took the opportunity to grab it, pulling her to her feet.

His hand was warm, and the contact made her palm tingle. If he didn’t let go soon she was going to start sweating, and that would just be embarrassing. Thankfully he just led her into the kitchen. Maybe if she had given him any suggestion that she would follow him without the lead, he would have let go sooner. Either way, there they were, in his tiny kitchen.

“What kind of drinks do you like?” He asked, crouching down to look in his lower cabinet which was undoubtedly where the alcohol lived.

Clarke shrugged. “I’m not really picky when it comes to hard stuff. What do you have?” She craned her neck in an attempt to see over his shoulder.

“Here, you can take a look.” He moved out of the way and gestured for her to lean down. She got on her knees in front of him and looked into the cabinet, painfully aware of how close he was behind her. There was a lot in there, but the rum and whiskey stood out to her. The Irish whiskey, in particular. A sudden warmth radiated onto her back and she held her breath when she realized he was leaning over her, no more than a few inches away.

“Anything that sounds good?” The words came from just above her ear, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Her mouth was dry as she swallowed, licking her lips before she spoke.

“Do you have any ginger ale?” She asked quietly, carefully, so her voice wouldn't falter.

Bellamy didn’t respond, but reached around her and grabbed the Irish whiskey she had her eye on. Apparently he was a mind reader. He then stood up, leaving a chill to rush in where his body had previously been warming her. This was just the strangest night. Maybe it was a mistake to be here; she could always back out and just leave. She was essentially sober now. It had been her own choice to stay. He hadn’t made the new drink yet. Even if he had, that wouldn’t obligate her to stay. Even if she had already been drinking it, she could always call a cab.

Instead, she got off her knees and stood next to him as he opened a can of ginger ale and put down a glass filled halfway with ice. He hadn’t started mixing the drink yet, and she appreciated that. It looked like he had been waiting for her, which was a nice gesture. It told her, _‘hey, I’m not going to drug you’_.

“How long are you planning on staying?” Bellamy asked, pouring the whiskey in a metal shot glass. Clarke didn’t know how to respond, so instead she opened her mouth soundlessly as he watched. After a moment he smiled. “Single or double?”

_Oh._ “Double.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Are you sure?”

Clarke frowned. “No.” She was grateful that he made her question the decision because it wasn't what she actually wanted, but it still annoyed her that he didn't just do it. This was a strange form of self-sabotage that she was exhibiting tonight. A good part of her wanted to stay, but also have the option to leave whenever she wanted; in that case drinking a lot was a very bad idea. However, there was a smaller part of her that seemed determined to to keep her intoxicated and give her less means of escape. That part of her would prefer if she stayed until the morning. That part of her would need to learn to deal with disappointment, because all the alcohol in the world would not keep her in that apartment overnight.

Bellamy poured the shot in the glass and placed it to the side instead of refilling it. “How about this--if you want another one just let me know.” He poured in part of the ginger ale, leaving plenty more space than usual. That would actually make it taste stronger, so she appreciated it. He was just on a roll tonight, doing everything right. With the squeeze of a lime wedge and a quick swirl the drink was done; he handed it to her.

“Thank you.” She tasted it, and this time her eyes lit up. “Okay, this is really good.” She held it out to him and he raised an eyebrow. “You should try it.”

That made him laugh. “I’ve made them before, I know what it tastes like.”

“Seriously, humor me.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and grabbed the glass from her, tipping some of the liquid back into his mouth. He handed it back to her and nodded.

“It’s good, right?” She took another drink and made a happy noise.

“I’m very talented.” He took a long drink from the beer he had grabbed from her, finishing half of what was left. “I’ll have to be careful around you; if I had to try every drink I made I would have a serious problem.” He smiled.

“Right, I forgot you were a bartender,” she admitted. That explained why this drink was so good, even though she had watched him make it, and there definitely wasn’t anything special he had done. Maybe she was just really in the mood for it, and it wasn’t actually that great. With another sip she shook her head; no, this was definitely an outstanding drink.

“If you went to more parties you wouldn’t forget.”

“Do you really work at those that much?” He started walking back to the living room and she followed him, sitting back down in the chair with the much better drink. It had been the right decision, even though she hadn’t exactly been the one to make it.

“Almost every weekend. It pays well, and since it’s not a bar I’m actually allowed to drink while I serve most of the time.”

Clarke nodded, already feeling the effects of the fantastic substance in her glass. “Maybe I’ll have to start frequenting those.” It was one thing to say it, another to act on it. In all honesty it was incredibly unlikely for her to follow through on that, though it would please Michelle to no end.

“If you’re trying to get me drunk now, I can’t imagine what it would be like at an actual party,” he laughed and Clarke blushed, hoping he didn’t notice. She could always blame the redness in her cheeks on the alcohol.

“I’m not trying to get you drunk,” she muttered.

“A beer and some Jameson ginger would beg to differ.” The mortification in her eyes was difficult to hide. “I’m just kidding, Princess. Anyway, you’d have to try harder than that.”

Clarke swallowed, trying to calm the furious beating of her heart. “Noted.”

No, that was a lie, she wasn’t noting that at all. She didn’t want to get him drunk, ever. That was never the goal. Why she had said that was completely beyond her. Why was she even still here? This night was nothing more than a huge confusion, and she didn’t even want to know what Bellamy was thinking behind those dark brown eyes. It was amazing that he had even offered to let her come here, and that he was allowing her to prolong the stay like this. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he enjoyed her company. That was ridiculous, of course.

“What would you like to do to pass the time?” Bellamy asked, sighing and leaning back on the couch to get comfortable. “I have movies, video games, Netflix…”

“Netflix is good,” she said, cutting him off. Mindless television was incredibly welcome, because if they stopped talking she could just pretend to be watching the show and it would be much less awkward. He tossed her the remote and she sifted through his suggestions, a little surprised at the range of his preferences. “What do you want to watch?”

“That is completely up to you.” Way to shirk all entertainment responsibility. She decided on a light show that he had apparently already watched; Clarke had seen it too, so it was less likely for her to get completely distracted in case they did keep talking.

Once the show had started, she tossed the remote back to him without warning. Of course he wasn’t ready; he hadn’t even been looking her way when she threw it, and she was filled with instant regret. It hit him hard in the side and he let out a large grunt, jumping at the impact.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly as he grabbed his side, and her eyes widened as she remembered that his ribs had been seriously bruised not that long ago, and he was probably still healing. “I completely forgot, I’m sorry,” she repeated, sitting up straight, itching to go over to him and help in some way.

“It’s fine, Princess, don’t worry about it.” He inhaled and exhaled deeply, moving the remote over to the side and leaning back on the couch, still holding his side. “I’m okay, seriously, don’t worry about it.” His words didn’t convince her.

“I’m really sorry,” she said again after a beat.

“Stop apologizing, you did nothing wrong.”

Clarke pursed her lips, completely ignoring the show playing in front of her; instead she watched him intently. “Can I…” she sighed. “Let me see.”

“I’m really okay,” he insisted. “Seriously, you just took me by surprise.”

“Have you been straining yourself? Exercising?”

Bellamy sighed and rolled his eyes. “Um,” he grabbed the bridge of his nose. “Maybe a little.” Clarke frowned at him. “I can’t just stop my life because of a little bruising.”

“A lot of bruising,” she corrected. “I saw it before, Bellamy. I just want to see how it’s healing up.” They held eye contact for at least a minute, but she didn’t waver. It was hard to keep focus that long, but she would never convince him if he didn’t think she was serious. With a lump in her chest, she imagined everything he could say in defense. _‘You just want to see me with my shirt off again…’_ Clarke swallowed, imagining the embarrassment that would cross her face, but he remained silent.

With a sigh, he broke her gaze and shifted over. “Fine.”

At that, she sat next to him on the couch and waited as he slowly lifted up his shirt, not looking her in the eyes. She didn’t ask what that was about; just looked over the side of his body, which was now colored an unpleasant yellow and green. That was good, it meant he was healing. Clarke reached out gently, trying to move the back of his shirt to see better, and he sighed.

“Screw it.” He stood up from the couch and pulled the shirt completely over his head, draping it over the side of the couch and sitting back down. That… was unexpected. A lump instantly formed in Clarke’s throat and it took some serious effort to push it down as she looked him over. This wasn’t the first time she had seen him without a shirt on, but this time it felt very different. For one, they were on a couch and not the floor of a public bathroom. Also, they were in a private space instead of a public one. On top of that, they were both drinking, and he looked very, very good--despite the discoloration of a good half of his torso.

“Can I?” Her hand hovered over his ribs and he shrugged.

“Go for it.” A moment’s hesitation passed, and then she gently prodded at his ribs as he stared pointedly at the ceiling, wincing ever so slightly.

“Does that hurt?” she asked, testing in some of the unbruised areas as well, specifically checking for any new breaks, pooled blood, or unexpected sensitivity.

“I’ve had worse.”

After she had thoroughly checked him, she lowered her hands and leaned back. “You’re healing up really nicely, actually.” She waited, expecting him to put his shirt back on. He didn’t. Part of her wanted to stay there next to him, but another part wanted to be as far away from his naked torso as possible. Was this weird? It was his apartment; he was free to do whatever he wanted. She’d been the one who essentially made him take his shirt off, so it wasn’t exactly fair for her to be bothered. It wasn’t that his exposed chest upset her; it just made her feel… _things_.

It was fine; this was fine.

Of course he would have no idea what this was doing to her, he was completely innocent and it was honestly her own fault anyway. Alcohol was stupid. She took another drink angrily, making a point to avoiding looking his way. See, this was why having Netflix on was a good idea. Instead of interacting with Bellamy, she watched the screen; none of it was absorbed though. She couldn’t recall what this episode was about to save her life; it was just people saying words that didn’t register in her mind.

Now Clarke had no idea what to talk about. She wanted to keep some sort of conversation going, but was at a complete loss for words. The whole reason the spontaneous, irresponsible side of her had wanted to stay was to spend time with him, and now there was just an awkward silence looming over them. What did they talk about aside from class? Apparently nothing. It was frustrating, because for some reason she just wanted to know more about him but here they were, not doing that. Maybe if she moved it would be more comfortable.

Without thinking, she turned her head to look at him. He was exactly where she had left him, sitting right next to her, close enough to touch. Completely vulnerable. Exposed to her in a way that she never would have expected. Why did he let her see him like this? He could have said no. He could have called her out for being ridiculous. Part of her wished he would have.

It would be so easy to touch him. Not to inspect his injuries, but to actually feel him. It would be so easy to reach over and place a hand on his chest, and move closer. Would he wrap his strong arms around her, or would he push her away, kick her out? What horrible, inappropriate thoughts. Those weren’t her own, that was the alcohol; Clarke still didn’t know exactly how it affected her. This was a bad idea. Being here was a bad idea. Drinking more was a bad idea. Looking at his bruises was a bad idea. Sitting there next to him was a bad idea.

It was a fleeting thought, a ridiculous thought, but Clarke didn’t push it out in time; she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. It would never happen, but the image was looping in her mind as she stared at his lips, itching to feel them with her own.

When Bellamy glanced at her, it took her too long to look away. Instead of making an excuse, she downed the rest of her drink--the devil that was making her think these ridiculous thoughts in the first place. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to push that strand of hair out of his face. She wanted to sit beside him, or on top of him, and feel the warmth of his skin. She wanted him to see her the way she was seeing him in that moment. More than anything, she wanted him to want her too. Even though it would accomplish nothing; nothing at all.

With a strained sigh, Clarke stood up and walked to the kitchen, not caring that Bellamy was watching as she placed her cup in the sink. When she came back, she made a point to sit back in the armchair, a safe distance from Bellamy. He seemed unphased, and she was grateful. See, he was indifferent to her. Nothing he did or said had any significance; he was clearly only being nice. He probably felt obligated, because he had been employed by her father. That had to be it.

The distance helped, and she was able to focus again. Of course, in place of her unwanted desires her mind filled with all the possible scenarios that could play out with her dad in the morning. For some reason, the ideas made her feel anxious; that wasn’t a feeling she usually associated with her fun-loving and carefree parent. No, that was reserved for her mother. She was probably just tired, and her mind confused.

“How long do you think I should wait to drive home?” Clarke asked, wishing now that she had just left. She was starting to get tired, and wasn’t too keen on driving under those conditions either.

Bellamy checked his phone. “No longer than an hour, maybe less. We can check in a little bit, if you’d like.” Clarke nodded, still unable to fathom how he could be so comfortable around her to remain shirtless this whole time. If she was just in her bra… well, she wouldn’t be, not around him. Not in a million years. Not unless there was something greater at work. But there wouldn’t be.

“That sounds good.” She curled her legs up onto the chair, letting her right leg drape over the side. “I hope my dad didn’t say anything too bad when I was gone.”

It was silent for a minute, and Clarke tilted her head up to look back at Bellamy. “He didn’t.” After that clear hesitation, she didn't believe him; she also didn't want to talk about it.

Clarke smiled and directed her attention back to the television. “Good.” She sighed. “I think he liked you.”

“Well, even if he didn’t, he won’t need to deal with me anymore now.”

“Right.”

“But I’m glad my charm is still intact.”

Clarke laughed softly. “Right, that infamous parent-charming you were so proud of.”

“I told you it would work.”

“Well, I told you not to worry so that makes me also right.”

“And I said I wasn’t worried.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t believe you.” She wasn’t looking at him, but she could picture the smirk that was surely across his face.

“You should have.”

“Clearly.”

“You just have to trust me, Princess.”

At that, Clarke chuckled. “Sure, I’ll get right on that.”

Their voices drifted off at that, as both of them continued to watch the glowing screen in silence. At the end of the episode, as the next one was loading, Bellamy finally spoke again.

“Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes were getting heavy, and the word came out slowly, softly.

“Good.”

“Did you?” It took a lot of effort to talk. At this point, she was afraid that she would drift off if she stopped. _Would that be the worst thing?_ Well, yes, it would. She just had to last another hour, and then she could leave. If she hadn’t allowed that self-sabotage, she could be leaving already.

“I’ve had worse.”

“Mmm, the highest praise.” The chair was very comfortable, and the pillows formed a nice cocoon around her body. It was so warm, and soft, and really nice.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Well, I don't know about that.” Just keep talking; stay awake. "At least in the same book."

“In the same chapter? Give me that much.”

“Sure, the same chapter.” She smiled, opening her eyes, not realizing they had been closed. In vain, she tried to wipe the bleariness from her vision. “But like, you're on the first page and I'm on the last.”

"That's quite a lot of distance."

"Exactly."

"How long is the chapter, Princess?"

"Hmmm, at least a third of the book." The thought was ridiculous, and she laughed at herself. God, she was tired. This was not good.

"You are making quite a statement with this."

Clarke made an involuntary noise and nodded, curling further into the pillows. "That's all I'm giving you, Bellamy."

"I guess I'll have to take it."

"Yessir."

Before the opening credits were over, her eyes closed again, and this time she drifted into the sleep she had been fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was FAR OVERDUE! I'm sorry this took so long to post, but my life has been kind of crazy this past year. I'm trying to start a new routine of making sure to write at least once a week, and we'll see how long that lasts. I really, really want to finish this story so I'm going to try my best to keep it going. :)
> 
> Thanks to EVERYONE who has kept reading, started reading, liked, commented... you are the reason I keep coming back to it! I will keep going for all of you. Thank you! :)


	28. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke wakes up in Bellamy's apartment.

When her eyes opened, Clarke immediately remembered where she was and what she was doing. Without a moment’s hesitation she shot up out of the chair, throwing the blanket off of her; Bellamy must have put it there after she fell asleep. God, she couldn't believe she had fallen asleep. It was kind of sweet though, that he had gotten her a blanket. No, she must be tired; not thinking clearly. It was not nice to give her a blanket. It would have been nicer to wake her.

The room was dark, but she was able to find her phone quickly. Apparently it was already after three in the morning. _Shit._ It took a moment for her eyes to readjust after being blinded by her bright screen, but once her surroundings took shape she looked around for anything else of hers strewn around the place. Had she brought her purse up here? She couldn’t remember now. Entering the apartment was a complete blur.

Bellamy was asleep on the couch. Why he hadn’t moved into his bedroom was beyond her; it was certainly more comfortable on a mattress, but to each their own. He looked comfortable, at least. His limbs were sprawled out, one arm above his head and a leg hanging off the side of the couch. Even though his mouth was closed, she could swear she heard his deep breathing as she watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his bare chest. It was nothing short of mesmerizing. He still hadn't put a shirt on, which she had to admit made it harder to look away. A long moment passed, and Clarke realized she had been staring at him that whole time. It was different when there was no chance of a returned gaze to snap her out of it. It really wasn't fair how attractive he was.

No, this was not the time. The alcohol was out of her system, so there was no excuse. Clarke was not attracted to Bellamy. That was not going to happen. They were not friends, and they would certainly never be anything more than that either.

_Then why are you here?_

**Shut up.**

None of this meant anything, and she wasn’t about to argue with herself about that. It was all situational, and had just happened; nothing more. Bellamy would wake up, and he wouldn’t wonder where she was, because he wouldn’t care. No matter how hard she looked at him, or how badly she wanted to stay here last night, he wouldn’t care. He didn’t care. He could not care less about her. The sooner she got that through her head, the happier she would be in the long run.

_He’s gotten nice._

**People change.**

_Not really._

It was pointless to speculate about his actions and moods, because it wouldn’t change anything and she would never get an answer from him anyway. The only thing she knew for certain, was that she had absolutely nothing to do with it, she just experienced the effect of whatever had changed his mood to happy, or indifferent, or upset. When he was nice to her, it was probably because something else had cheered him up. When he was mad at her, he was probably having a shit day. When he flirted with her… well, he probably did that with everyone. He wasn’t flirting with her, he was just being flirty. There was a difference. She wasn’t about to start reading into that either.

Clarke found her purse by the door and picked it up, sighing as she looked over her shoulder at him. Last night had actually been really fun, even with all the twists and turns in her head. It would be nice to see him again; she hoped she would. After deciding against continuing their tutor sessions, that became less and less likely. Again, he didn’t care about her. There was no way he would make a point to interact with her if he had no reason.

Maybe she should leave a note. That went completely against the fact of his indifference that she was trying to pound into her own brain, but it still seemed like a good idea. Clarke grabbed a pen out of her purse and found a post-it note in the kitchen to write on.

**Woke up, leaving now. Thanks for the drink, no thanks for not waking me up.**

She wanted to write more. She wanted to tell him how much she had enjoyed his company, and how she hoped to see him again soon. But that would be pointless to say. He didn’t care. _Just remember he doesn’t care._ With a sigh, she signed the note and put it on the end table next to Bellamy’s head. When she reached over him he sighed and shifted slightly, making Clarke freeze in her steps, but he didn’t open his eyes. Relief and disappointment rushed through her, and she shook her head. _Don’t be stupid._ Even with that, she found herself staring again. _God, pull yourself together._ After another long look, she pulled herself away.

It was a little startling to see that his door was unlocked, but that made her feel better about not being able to lock it behind her. The building itself was quite secure, and she wasn’t exactly worried for Bellamy’s safety; he seemed more than capable of taking care of himself. If Clarke found herself in danger, she couldn’t think of anyone she would rather have come to her rescue. Something about him made her feel safe, albeit anxious. The obvious answer was that he was strong, and looked like he could throw or take a punch. That was it, nothing more significant than that. Definitely not.

She wished he was there now, walking her down to her car. It would help with that current of nerves coursing through her body to have him there. Even though she was parked close to the entrance, her legs moved much faster than they needed to. The city wasn’t exactly safe, and it was prime time for crime, or something like that. Clarke gripped her keys tightly, making a serious effort to not drop them as she approached her car, unlocking the door and opening it quickly. In a single motion she slid into her seat, closed the door behind her, and locked the doors. Okay, she was safe. With a long exhale, she started her car and felt much better once the vehicle was in motion.

Tomorrow was going to be rough; or later today, if she was being technical. Hopefully her dad would be easy company, like he usually was. Hopefully being alone with him would be easier than the past two dinners they had, because those had been a little draining for her. For some reason, it was always easier one-on-one. It would be fine though either way, because she would still be getting a good five or six more hours of sleep; thank god she woke up when she did. That could have been horrible. How would her father have reacted if she had to reschedule to later, or if she showed up in the same clothes she had left in? It could have happened, if she had woken up too late to be able to go back to her dorm. That would be awful. He wouldn’t even listen to an explanation; he would have come to plenty of conclusions on his own. Parents could be incredibly frustrating in that way.

Okay, there was no reason to get all riled up, because that had not happened. Through some saving grace, she was nearly back to her dorm and had plenty of time to sleep soundly before meeting her dad. Also, she had been able to hang out with Bellamy longer. She got the best of both worlds. A smile crept across her face as she remembered the events of that night. It quickly disappeared when she realized she was thinking about him _again_ , and he had definitely seen her sleeping; how mortifying. Well, she had seen him sleeping as well, so they were even. Except life wasn’t fair, so of course he looked freaking angelic and she had probably looked like a monster with hair and drool everywhere. Whatever, it was done. It didn’t matter if she had disgusted him, because she wasn’t going to see him anymore anyway. _He doesn't care; he doesn't care._ What a depressing mantra.

Somehow there was a space in the parking garage right next to her dorm. That never happened, but tonight was a good night and she took it as another win.

When Clarke got back to her dorm, she pulled off her nice clothes and threw them on the floor before climbing up the ladder to her bed. The comfort of the bedding beneath her overtook her body, and she collapsed in a heap, not even caring enough to get under the blankets. With some effort, she silenced her thoughts long enough to drift back off into sleep, but not before setting three alarms to make sure she woke up without any surprises.

\------------------------------------------

It was hard to pretend to be asleep, listening to Clarke move around his apartment. He could just as easily stretch and sit up, pretending to be disoriented and surprised she was awake. They could exchange a few words, and he would see her safely out of his building. Part of him would prefer that scenario, just to see how she was feeling after the whole charade. He could guess that she was annoyed he had let her keep sleeping instead of waking her up, but he had given her fair warning about that. Actually, he had kind of been kidding at that point, but when it actually happened he had decided it was safer to let her sleep as long as she needed, instead of having her drive home and potentially fall asleep at the wheel.

Plus it had pleased him to no end to look over and see Clarke only a few feet away from him, sleeping soundly. Not in a million years would Bellamy have predicted this chain of events, and in his right mind he would have done anything to prevent it; but he was very grateful now that it happened. _Clearly_  it was not ideal for Clarke to be in his apartment. _Of course_ it was not the best idea to serve her alcohol in his living room. _Obviously_ it was incredibly self-sabotaging to let her sleep there, so very close.

It still made him happy. Happy, and also cautious. It was important here, to be careful. Not with actions; he wasn’t going to do anything. The most offensive thing Bellamy did was watch Clarke for a few moments while she slept, smiling to himself at how peaceful and beautiful she looked. No, he had to be careful with his feelings. Feelings were dangerous, and here he had all but set himself up for failure. Not long ago he had warned himself about proximity, and decided that he easiest way to control his budding affection was distance. As often as possible, increase their distance. With space, with time, with words.

That night was a horrible attempt at distance. Actually, it wasn’t an attempt at all; it was the exact opposite of that.

As the sounds of Clarke’s shuffling came closer, he remember the words of her father. He wanted to open his eyes and talk to her, but was stopped by the echoes in his head. _‘I’m telling you this, because you need to be the responsible one.’_  Playing again and again, keeping him still on the couch, eyes firmly closed. All last night, he had failed to be the responsible one. This was his chance to create some of that distance, and give Clarke a chance to get her bearings. If her father was right, then she might be experiencing her own emotions around that night. Bellamy would not influence them now; he would stay down.

It proved difficult, to say the least. He had this feeling that she was standing right in front of him, but she couldn't look to be sure. He didn’t hear her walk away, but he couldn’t hear anything near him either, just seemed to feel her watching him. That probably wasn't the case; there was no reasonable explanation for that. It was painfully tempting to open his eyes anyway, just to glance around and see where she was, but there was a chance she would see. Instead he let out a sigh and shifted his weight, keeping up the appearance of sleep. At that, he heard something moving near him, and then it was silent until she came back a few moments later, and reached over him. He could feel her right above him, probably less than a foot away. What was she doing? Probably nothing. He considered that she had left something there, even though he knew that wasn’t true.

It felt like ages before he heard the door open and close, and as soon as he was certain she was gone he sat up and looked at the end table by his head. The post-it note sitting there caught his eye immediately, and he picked it up. Her note made him laugh, partly because of the contents and partly because of the fact she had left him a note at all. It was sweet, and adorable.

Dangerous. Everything about her was dangerous. _Stay away, Bellamy._

He would leave it. He would leave it be until she reached out to him, if she reached out to him. She probably wouldn’t. At least, he wouldn’t hold his breath for it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time, but the next one will be longer. I'm already well into it, so I'm hoping I can get it done and stick to the weekly schedule.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! It's been fun to be writing again and I'm looking forward to the next few chapters :)


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